


Chaos, Chaos, Calm

by tarhy



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Fluff, I'm sorry the chapters are so short I suck at this, Longing, Mentions of Suicide, Please Forgive me, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Sad ending?, Self-Doubt, Small Cameo from Steve Rogers, Very light smut, all the sad things, also not sure if I'm going to ignore everything that happens in infinity war, for my own sanity, ill apologise now, mentions of possible suicide attempts, mentions of self harm, might stay accurate to the events of civil war, no promises, not great with timelines, probably, sad bucky, steve doesn’t show up till the last chapter so don’t get excited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2021-03-30
Packaged: 2021-04-20 04:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 64,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarhy/pseuds/tarhy
Summary: Bucky Barnes is still in hiding after the events in Washington. Needing to run again, he decides on the Netherlands.He just needed to hide, to stay out of trouble. He wanted to be a ghost again. He wanted to find somewhere to disappear. Somewhere to fade away into nothing.Meeting her was never apart of that plan.--“You know what’s crazy? One day this entire country will be underwater. Nothing we see right now will exist anymore” She spoke softly, letting the words flowing out of her mouth like liquid.He thought to himself; Good. He tainted everything he touched, every city he stepped in. Let the water wash away any trace that he ever existed here, that the Winter Soldier ever stood in a place like this. Let it erode away at the idea of someone like him ever having anything to do with someone so clean, so uncontaminated as her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 108





	1. Hoek Van Holland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. So I'm a big fan of using music in fics so whenever I used a song ill post it in the end notes. 
> 
> Also, this is my first time ever writing fan fiction so be gentle with me please, I'm fragile. Honestly, I think I hit my stride around chapter 26-ish, so please bear with me till then. if you want, you don't have to. anyway heres my trash.

“The Netherlands it is” Bucky muttered to himself. It’s taken him a few days to decide, to toss over the logistics and the details of the next country he might take shelter in. 

The Netherlands came up as the best solution to a terrible situation. Small country, making it easy to cross multiple borders within hours. He didn’t speak the language but could learn quickly. From his research, he found that most of the population could speak English anyway. 

He needed to find somewhere close to a major city but not so close that it was too many eyes on him. Too many innocent victims if he lost control. He eyed the map in front of him, noticing how tight his metal fingers were gripping the page underneath his glove. He decided on an area near The Hague and Rotterdam. 

He packed the last of this clothes and notebooks into his backpack, scanning his apartment one last time, making sure there was no sign of life left. 

It needed to look like he was never there, like Bucky Barnes never existed. 

\---

It took a few weeks of travelling to reach the Dutch border from his previous hideout in Slovenia. As he got closer to the city limits of Rotterdam, he stopped to decide on a suburb. Somewhere to start scouting and hopefully find a place to live. He pulled out his map and decided on his next location, Hoek van Holland. 

An hour later and he had reached Hoek van Holland. It was a small, seaside town not too far from The Hague. Not a huge population and at this time of year it was mostly tourists enjoying the last of the summer sunshine before winter settled back in a month or two. 

He still had enough money left over for working in Slovenia to get him through a few weeks without work. He was strong and physically young and the docks and industrial district where close by so finding work in manual labour shouldn’t be too hard to come by. He can get paid cash in hand, doesn’t need to show any identification, can give a fake name. 

No one needs to get hurt. 

It didn’t take him too long to find an apartment with a ‘for rent’ sign. He wandered through the lobby of the building, marking the exits and burning the layout into his memory. He found the landlord’s office easily enough, knocking on the door hesitantly. Every new interaction he had to make was another chance to blow his cover. 

The landlord opened the door slowly. Bucky took one look at him and knew he wasn’t going to be any trouble. He was short and stout, thin grey hair covering his head, probably in his late eighties. He looked up at Bucky and squinted, reaching lazily for the glasses hanging around his neck. 

“Kan ik u helpen?” He asked in Dutch. Bucky froze for a second, trying to come up with a plan. He knew German, and while it wasn’t the same, it was worth a shot. (Can I help you?)

“Ich möchte das Zimmer zu vermieten?“ He said slowly, hoping the man could understand what he was saying. The Dutch man blinked a few times before giving Bucky a look of recognition. (I want to rent the room?)

“ach ja natürlich. Tut mir leid, mein Junge, ich musste jetzt schon eine Weile Deutsch sprechen. Hast du alle Papiere für die Wohnung? He asked and Bucky could feel his palms start to sweat. This shouldn’t make him so nervous, but it does.  
(Ah yes of course. I’m sorry, my boy, I haven’t spoken German for a while. Do you have all the paperwork for the apartment?)

“Nein. Ich hatte gehofft, ich könnte bar bezahlen. Ich gebe dir gleich sechs Monate“. Bucky pleaded, holding out the envelope of money he’s kept in his pocket all morning. The man looked him up and down, trying to judge how much of a threat he might be. After a moment of consideration, he turned and grabbed a key off the wall behind him. (No. I was hoping I could pay cash. I can give you six months straight away)

“Lass es mich nicht bereuen” He said, placing the key into Bucky’s open palm and taking the wad of cash in return. Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief. He thanked the man before turning and quickly heading towards the stairs before he could change his mind. (Don’t make me regret this)

He was glad to have the only apartment on the top floor. It meant he had time to hear enemies coming for him, and the fire escape gave him another route of exit when the time came. It almost reminded him of the apartment he had back in Brooklyn, or at least was he could recall of it. 

The neighbouring apartment block was close, almost too close. A quick jump and he would land on their matching fire escape, which upon reflection wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Again, another way to get out whenever Hydra or Steve or someone came to take him. 

He pulled out the contents of his backpack. All he had was a few pieces of clothes, just enough to get by. He also had a few notebooks, which he placed on the kitchen table. Luckily, the apartment came furnished, so he didn’t need to go out and purchase anything. Helps reduce the risk of being spotted. If all goes to plan he should be able to stay here for at least six months, maybe nine if he’s lucky. 

Bucky flopped down on the couch, taking in the silence around him. He knew he needed to sleep. His body was screaming at him, begging him to close his eyes. He had barely slept in the past 2 weeks and he could feel it in his bones. He rested his head down against the back of the lounge, closing his eyes and trying to let sleep consume him. 

He knows the peace won't last long. He knows he will wake up again soon, shaking and covered in a cold layer of sweat. He will wake up, face scrunched up in pain as he remembers what they did to him. The fighting, the blood, the broken bones, the wiped memories. It all comes flooding back to him by morning.

\---

It takes him a few days to find work at a shipping company a few minutes from his apartment. It’s night work, which he couldn’t be happier with. Less people to see his face in the cover of murky darkness and shadows. He finally lets himself settle a little after this, just enough to be able to breathe a bit easier. 

He is still on edge, waiting for someone to recognize him, someone to come and try to kill him any second. It’s like his nerves are turned up to one hundred. Like any creak of the floorboards or low flying plane could set him off. 

He’s paranoid and he knows it. The threat of Hydra finding him is so overwhelming. The price is almost too high to comprehend. He knew what would happen if they found him. He decided long ago that if it happened again, if Hydra came back and forced him to become the Winter Soldier once more, he'd put a gun in his mouth the second he got the chance. 

Even though everything is still up in the air, he feels like he’s able to get into a sort of routine this time around, and routine is not something he’s experienced much in his life. You could almost call it peaceful if you were a stranger, inspecting from the outside looking in. 

Work, sleep, eat, shower, work, sleep, eat, shower. It was three weeks of undisturbed mundanity. 

If Bucky knew how everything was able to change, maybe, just maybe, he would have run away when he got the chance.


	2. It's Been a Long, Long Time

Bucky shot up in bed so fast it caused the blood to rush to his head, leaving black spots in his vision for a second before shaking them away. He wasn’t sure exactly what shook him from his restless sleep, but he knew it wasn’t good. 

He had been failing to fall asleep for the past hour, trying to get some rest before his shift started in a few hours. He knew what was waiting for him behind closed eyes but he still told himself it was necessary. 

You can’t avoid sleep forever Buck, as much as you want to.

He flopped back down on the mattress, grabbing the pillow from under his head and throwing it over his face. Even with curtains, this apartment was too bright. He sighed, holding back a scream that was dancing across his lips. 

He was almost asleep again when he heard it, the rhythmic trumpet, the strings of the orchestra. For a second he passed it off as his imagination, but after a moment of foggy confusion, he realised it was real. It was real and he remembered it. 

“Wait, I know that song” He almost said it out loud, almost screamed it from the rooftops. It had been so long since he remembered anything about his past. He couldn’t recall who the singer was, or even the lyrics for that matter, but he could remember dancing. 

He could remember the scent of floral perfume and gin, floating around the room in some swing bar in Brooklyn. It must have been during the summer time because he could recall the feeling of sweat, of warm bodies against one another. Flesh against flesh. He remembered slow dancing with a young blonde whose name who have faded from his memory long before Hydra had wiped it. 

He stood up out of bed and walked towards the window, slowly as he took in the tune playing from the apartment across the way. He had heard music coming from that apartment almost every day in the past two weeks since he had arrived, but this was the first time he had recognized anything. 

His window was already open, but his curtains were closed tightly in a useless attempt to block out the sun. Carefully, he reached out and opened the curtain, just enough to show his torso without exposing his currently uncovered metal arm. 

As he looked into the window across from him, he saw a young woman. She didn’t look much younger then he might have been when he had left for the war. She stood facing him, swaying slightly to the music.

She held a cup in her hand, mixing the contents before pouring it over the canvas on the table in front of her. He watched her as she slowly poured a few different cups of what he assumes must be paint on the round canvas, before stepping back and admiring her work. 

He could hear her humming to the song still playing in the background as she stepped away from the table. He listened to the tap running and moments later she was returning, towel in hand. Before she had a chance to continue her work, she looked up with a glance that was equal parts surprised and embarrassed. 

He didn’t have time to hide from her gaze when he heard a loud thud followed closely by a rough “Jesus fuck!” The young blonde kicked her toe into the solid wood table leg and was clutching at her foot in pain. 

Bucky knelt down slightly, getting himself better aligned with the open window and before he could stop himself he yelled out. 

“Are you okay?” He said cautiously. He cursed at himself internally. Why are you so stupid? You should have never been watching her. Now you’ve spoken to her? Fuck, we’ve probably ruined our cover. 

Instead of speaking, she simply put her thumb up to signal that she was okay, before hobbling off out of view and into another room. 

He closed the curtains quickly, deciding on a cold shower to try and calm down his frazzled nerves. He knew that was a mistake. He should have never even opened the curtains and now there was a good chance his cover was blown before he barely had a chance to get settled in The Netherlands.

Before he retreated to the bathroom, he stopped, walking over to his kitchen table and picking up the faded leather notebook he left there earlier. He opened it to the next empty page and jotted down the lyrics he could remember, memories trickling back to him as he wrote.

“Never thought that you would be  
standing here so close to me  
there’s so much I feel that I should say  
but words can wait until some other day

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice  
Then kiss me once again  
It’s been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams  
I've dreamed about you  
Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So, kiss me once, then kiss me twice  
Then kiss me once again  
It's been a long, long time”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: It's Been a Long, Long Time - Harry James


	3. Blood and Paint

It was about 20 minutes later that he heard footsteps on the fire escape outside. He focused on the sound, realising they were coming from his neighbour. His brain was screaming at him to stop, a fire starting in his stomach, his training trying to take over but he still walked back to the window before pausing, fingers gently grazing the fabric. 

Maybe I could just speak to her for a moment, apologise for startling her and be done with it. I'll never have to speak to her again and my cover should still stay relatively intact. Yes, just say sorry and walk away. That's it, he thought. 

He cautiously opened the window to see the blonde woman stepping back inside her apartment. He sat down on the window ledge, taking in the painting she had just left on the landing of the fire escape to dry in the sun. 

He admired the painting for a moment, a mixture of black, white and greys all swirling together like an oil slick on the sea. It was chaotic and calming all at the same time. Like the eye of a storm, he thought. Chaos, chaos, calm. 

He heard another footstep and looked up, meeting the woman's eyes as she stepped out onto the landing, another painting in hand. They both paused and looked at each other before Bucky blurted out. "I'm sorry for staring earlier. I didn't mean to scare you"

She smiled at him, warm and inviting. "Oh, no its fine. I just need to watch where I'm going" She spoke in a thick accent that Bucky couldn't pin down at first. He wasn't exactly sure where it was from but it definitely wasn't Dutch. 

"How's your foot? Is it injured?" He spoke with such care and sincerity that it made her heart melt a little at his words. Well, hello neighbour, she thought to herself. She let out a quick laugh, barely longer then a breath.

"No, it's fine, honestly. It's not my first stubbed toe and it won't be my last, trust me" She said, smile wide and comforting. He didn’t know what he was expecting from her, but it wasn’t this. 

He realised then that her accent sounded similar to the Australian men he met during the war. The memory was fuzzy but he could piece together the import parts. He remembers drinking with two Australian soldiers in a run-down bar in maybe Brooklyn? or was it London? He can remember that they both drank him under the table. Their voices where rough and loud without the volume you'd expect. Of all the different accents he could remember from the war, Australian was his favourite.

She looks at him curiously as she places the second painting down, like she's trying to connect the dots in her head. Who was this man sitting across from her? His face felt oddly familiar but she just couldn't place it. 

He stared back at her with eyes that looked like they were screaming. It was like being this close to her hurt him. Likes he's about to turn and run without warning. She wonders why he's so scared. 

In this moment of silence, he finally had a chance to look at his new neighbour. The one who played music every everyday while she cooked, lit candles every night and drank tea on the fire escape on Saturday mornings. She thought it was nice to finally put a face to the man she heard going up to the roof every night. 

She had long, curly blonde hair that she had half up in a bun, the rest flowing around her shoulders. She wore old blue denim jeans, covered in holes and rips, paint splattered all over. The sleeves of her grey sweater almost hid her hands, but he could still see the tips of her fingers poking out, covered with red paint. The imagine made his skin shiver slightly, memories running back to things he’d rather forget about.

She had bright blue eyes, brighter then he could ever remember seeing on another person. They were the type of eyes you could drown in happily. She was beautiful, but not in the typical way. 

She had the type of face you wanted to see when you were sick and needed caring for. The type of face you wanted to see after jumping awake from a nightmare. She had the face of someone you'd want to wake up next to everyday for the rest of your life. 

He realised he had been standing there too long, staring at her like this. The longer she looked at him, the higher the risk of her recognising him. If not her, someone could have seen him by now. It was becoming risky and he didn't want to deal with risky. 

He had barely been living in The Netherlands for a few weeks and he wasn't ready to pack up and leave again just yet. He gave her a polite nod and went to step back into his apartment until her voice rang out towards him, making him freeze.

"What was your name?" She asked. She could feel her skin start to heat up, nerves spreading throughout her chest. She didn’t know why she felt so drawn towards him, but it was almost overwhelming. 

He stilled for a second, wondering if he should use his real name. He didn't know whether or not she could be trusted, whether or not she was working undercover for the enemy. He stared into her soft eyes, trying to step inside her mind. 

Those eyes won't hurt you, he thought. You need to trust someone eventually Buck.

"It's Bucky" he said, freezing up as soon as the words left his mouth. He was waiting for the worst to happen. He knew that was a mistake. 

"Bucky... I like it" She smiled at him and crossed her arms over her chest. It was the type of smile that made his heart stutter for a second. 

She turned and stepped back into her apartment, letting Bucky release the breath he didn't notice he was holding in. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn't even get a chance to ask for her name. 

He looked at the second painting she had brought out to dry before he stepped back inside. This one was a mixture of reds and pinks, reminding him of blood.   
Blood over everything. Over himself, over the people he killed. He's seen enough blood in his lifetime to fill an ocean. The memories sent a sharp stab of pain to the back of his head as he retreated inside. 

\--

Later on, once darkness had finally fallen and it felt like he could breathe a little easier again, Bucky slept through the night for the first time in 70 years. 

He dreamt of blonde hair and the smell of paint. He dreamt of ocean blue eyes swallowing him whole. 


	4. Freight Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning - mentions of scars and past self-harm

Tara woke up in a cold sweat, the sheets clinging to her back. Her head was pounding, pulse loud and clear in her head. She didn't know what kind of dream that was, but she could still feel it lingering in the air around her. It was dark. Light against darkness. Lightness falling away. 

She slowly climbed out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. Her headache was still beating strong as she ran the water, stripped out of her clothes and let the cool water wash over her shaking frame. 

Her mind was running a million miles a second. It has been a long time since she had a dream so vivid, so real. Not since she left Australia. 

She leaned against the wall of the shower, feeling the cold tiles against her forehead, calming the pain in her head. Letting the warm water wash over her back, she breathed in deep feeling her heart start to return to a normal rhythm.

She tried to remember what had happened in her dream, mind racing through the flashing scenes replaying in her head. She remembered brown hair and bright blue eyes, clouded over with something she couldn’t make out. Fear? Anger? Confusion?

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She was half way through drying off when she looked up and caught herself in the mirror. She usually avoided looking in mirrors as much as she could, disgusted by who she saw looking back at her. 

The deep scars on her arms and thighs always looked so much worse in the grey morning light. Her cold fingertips lightly grazed over the old cuts, making her shiver. No matter how hard she wanted to scrub them away, she knew she never could. 

She stepped out of the bathroom, crossing the living room quickly, over-aware of the open curtains she needed to cross pass with a direct view of her new neighbour. She pulled out her uniform and started to get ready for work. She had her shirt halfway on when she remembered another part of her dream. 

Bucky. It was Bucky. That new neighbour was the man in my dream, wasn’t it? She thought.

She almost felt stupid that it had taken her so long to realise it was the man she met yesterday, the man who she caught staring at her from his apartment. However, he felt different in that dream, distant somehow.

The man she met yesterday seemed guarded but warm. Like he could be the most caring person in the world if he let you close enough. And the man in her dream seemed so cold and frightened. Not to mention the metal prosthesis she so vividly remembered the man having, shining in her eyes and blinding her. The last thing she remembered before she woke up. 

She tried to shake the dream from her mind as she walked out to the kitchen to make her morning cup of tea. Letting the warm steam fill her nostrils, she leant back on the kitchen counter and faced the window on the opposite side of the room. 

Her curtains were drawn open, giving her a view to her neighbour across the way. She knew standing there so visibly and staring was probably a bad idea. The risk of him seeing her was pretty high and she didn’t know if she could handle the embarrassment. 

He seemed like a sweet enough guy, and man had it been a long time since she’d met anyone she could class as ‘sweet’. She didn’t want to scare him away immediately. 

When she had caught him staring at her yesterday, her heart dropped. For a moment she was frightened, but that disappeared and was replaced with embarrassment. 

She was always so self-conscious around people, let alone attractive men with bright blue eyes that could replace the summer sky if they wanted to. He was broad from what she could tell underneath his long-sleeved jumper. He had long brown hair, long enough to grip and pull. Oh, god Tara get it together. You’re not his type.

He had the type of face you could forgive instantly. The type of face that you wanted to hold and protect. He had the face of someone you’d want to wake up next to everyday for the rest of your life. 

It all came to her then. She almost dropped her tea, hot liquid spilling everywhere as the realisation hit her like a freight train. Her internal dialogue was screaming at her. 

Jesus fucking Christ. I knew it. I knew I recognized him from somewhere. How could I be so stupid. How could I not remembering hearing about this? It was the biggest news story for weeks. 

Its him. Bucky was the Winter Soldier.


	5. Chiaroscuro

Tara could not have been more useless at work that day. She felt like a zombie, walking around barely managing to complete her day to day tasks. All she could think about was that The Winter Soldier was living next door. 

How was that possible? How is he just out there, living in some seaside town in The Netherlands with no one finding him. Should she tell someone? Call the police? The FBI? How do you even call the FBI? Mental note: google how to call the FBI.

It just didn’t make sense to her. He didn’t look very dangerous. Hell, he actually looked harmless. If she ignored the massive muscles he was sporting, then she could even imagine taking him down in a fight. 

“Mate, who are you kidding? You can even lift your container of paints at home” She muttered to herself as she sat at her desk, causing her coworker to look at her strangely. She gave her a weak smile and went back to focusing on the clusterfuck in her head. 

She felt like she should be scared, right? Like living next door to one of the most famous murders in history should make her nervous, but she wasn’t. Not at all. She didn’t know much about his case, but she knew there was something missing. She knew the man standing in front of her yesterday and the man she heard about on the news couldn’t be the same. 

The one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about were those eyes. The ones in her dream were angry, staring back at her intensley from her fuzzy memories. They were terrifying. She could hear him screaming for help, like there was someone else hiding in them, begging to get out. 

She remembered her encounter with him yesterday, recalling the look in his eyes. They were so anxious, so panicked. Like he knew if you looked into them too long you’d see every secret he’s ever had. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much for this lifetime. They weren’t the eyes of the Winter Soldier. They couldn’t be. 

She tried to push Bucky to the back of her mind, distracting herself with floor plans and run sheets for the bedroom rebuild due next week. The hours passed by slower then she thought was possible but eventually she was walking up the stairs to her apartment.

She paused before unlocking the door, taking a steady breath in. She was nervous now, not because she thought he was going to hurt her, no, he would have done that already if he wanted to. She was nervous to see him again, scared that this time she would be the one caught staring. Frankly, the fact she couldn’t stop thinking about him was concerning. 

‘Don’t you dare fall in love with him Tara I swear to god’. 

She walked into her apartment and immediately looked out her window on the opposite wall, breathing a small sigh of relief to see his curtains drawn. Her heart rate settled after that and she started her nightly routine. She turned on some music, immediately pressing shuffle on her favourite album at the moment, Chiaroscuro by Ocean Alley.  
After a quick shower, she started on dinner. She was relaxed now, as she always was at this time of day. Candles burning away, music playing slowly. This was the time of day she really loved. 

“She’s up early in the morning with a coffee and a dart  
She’s gotta long list of reasons why shell tear out your heart  
And there’s no one on your side  
There’s nowhere left to hide”

If only she had turned around long enough to see the silhouette of the man outside, watching her curiously from the fire escape. His fingers clung to the rail, almost bending the metal completely from the pressure. 

He didn’t know why he was out there in the cold wind. He didn’t know why he couldn’t help but watch the young blonde float around the kitchen, humming along to the music. 

‘Who is this girl?’

\--

In bed that night, she finally allowed herself to open up google, dreading what she was going to discover. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Article after article, video after video, all about the Winter Soldier and James Buchanan Barnes. 

A lot of things she knew already from news coverage during the Washington attack, but there was so much she never knew. The beatings, the torture, the freezing over and over again. Wiping him clean whenever they needed him to be a soulless killer. It was terrifying. 

That man had been through the worst pain imaginable, and he was right there. He was so close she felt like she could reach out and touch him. She wanted to jump up out of bed and run out there and do something, anything. She wanted to help him so badly her hands shook. 

She sat up in bed, letting out a wretched sob before putting her head in her hands, finally letting her raw emotions flow out of her. How could anyone hurt someone like that? How could they turn this man into a killer so easily? How can anything think of him as anything but a victim? Oh god.

When she finally calmed down and started to breathe normally again, she looked at the clock. It was well past two am now and she would need to wake up for work in a few hours. She groaned and threw her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes and trying to let sleep overcome her. 

She knew she had some intense nightmares waiting in the blackness of her eyelids, but she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to be the only person terrified in their sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's Always Right - Ocean Alley


	6. Experiment

Bucky spent the next week desperately trying to pretend that the young woman didn’t exist. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite pin down yet. She had this energy that he wanted to drown himself in. He had to keep telling himself that she wasn’t right there, almost close enough to touch. 

He had been avoiding seeing her the best he could. He didn’t open his curtains till the sun had completely set, waiting to venture to the roof until he was certain she was asleep. If he could bear to thank Hyrda for anything, it was probably the improved hearing skills. 

Ever since he met her last week, his mind has been racing, flooded with questions about her he wasn't sure he deserved the answers to. 

He found himself longing for night to fall so he could escape to work. He found the psychical distance away from the apartment calming, like his brain could settle a little more. He felt like he could relax into the mundanity of his work, but as soon as he was even close to his block, and her apartment was within eyeshot, he was done for. Once again reverted to a walking mess. 

Whenever he knew she was there, right outside on the fire escape, either painting or reading or listening to music, he felt like he couldn’t breathe from the close proximity. He would always walk over to the window, inches away from giving in. Eyes closed tightly, breathing rapid, chest rising and falling out of rhythm. Always ending the same way. 

He started to sleep better ever since that first day he met her. The nightmares still came every night but they were shorter, less intense. It was like there was this golden, sepia haze put over his bad memories. It was like someone was trying to replace them with this less painful version of the truth. Like someone was trying to put some space between him and the people that did this to him. 

He never sees a face in his nightmares, but he knew who it was. It was always the same blue eyes and delicate, paint covered hands. As much as he didn’t want to think about her, he couldn’t help but thank her for that. 

\--

It was a few days ago that he started taking notes on her. The way her hair looked in the sunshine, what she was wearing, the way she smiled to herself as she read on the fire escape. He described her paintings in as much detail as he could muster for someone who nothing about art. 

He remembered the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke to him. The strong accent of her voice. He began writing down lyrics to the songs she played the most. With the words, all scribbled across the page like this, it was a true reflection of his brain since he had met her. 

He didn’t know it yet, but she had awoken something in him he thought he had lost forever. Something he thought had been stomped out of his memories, out of his soul.

I just wish I knew her name, he thought. 

\--

I didn’t realise that a painting could look like  
that, so fluid so real. If I stare at it long  
enough it looks like its moving. She did that. Those soft,  
delicate hands did that. 

I couldn’t stop myself from looking when I heard her outside today. She spent a few hours out on the fire escape, reading what looked like a book but I couldn’t see the cover. The way the sun danced off her hair, her skin, her eyes, it was hard to believe she was real. For a second I wondered if this was some kind of mind tick. Maybe Hydra had already found me and this was some sick experiment they were testing. Maybe shes my next target. 

Fuck, I need to stop this. 

"Everybody here is watching you  
Cause you feel like home  
You're like a dream come true"

“I’ve been waiting my whole life,  
to know I’ve wanted you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When We Were Young - Adele  
Wanted U - Joji


	7. Footsteps

Tara was wary at first with the prospect of living next door to the former Winter Soldier. One of the greatest assassins of all time was here, just hiding out in some little seaside town in the south of The Netherlands. It didn’t make sense to her at first, but now she understood it completely. 

She knew he was just trying to lay low, trying to stay alive. Here she was, living alone in a country not her own, spending her time painting and distracting herself with work, all to avoid dealing with the real reason she was there. The real reason she was still in the Netherlands. The real reason she moved there in the first place. Maybe she knew all too well what it was like to hide out. 

Since her discovery, she had come to realised that there is no way Bucky could still be the person she read about. For one, if he was still some brainwashed murder machine, she would have been dead after seeing him that first afternoon. He could have been able to see it in her eyes, that flicker of recognition. 

The look in his eyes that day screamed nothing but innocence and fear. They weren’t the eyes of a killer. The things they did to him, the torture, the beatings, the starvation, all of it, was designed to break him down into something less then human. That killing machine. That wasn’t Bucky anymore. 

She couldn’t get him out of her mind. She found herself getting easily distracted all week, her mind drifting to thoughts of the apprehensive stranger. She kept thinking back to the afternoon she met him. His beautiful blue eyes that looked like endless pools. His hair was long, coming close to the top of his thick, broad shoulders. 

She was lucky that her week at work had been filled with building, painting and decorating. It meant her mind was kept busy, not wondering away to thoughts she needed to ignore. 

She was thankful for the first time in a while to be out of the planning office and stuck into building her latest design. She usually loved the planning side of it all, being able to just sit and zone out with some music and her computer. But now, it was just an easy way to get lost in the ocean. 

Every day when she arrived home, she would look straight out the window to see if Bucky had decided to make an appearance. When the realisation would hit her that he wasn’t there, she would feel her heart drop in a way she wasn’t ready to admit yet. 

It didn’t stop her from trying to get his attention, even though she knew it was a stupid idea. There is no way he’s even given her another thought since their first meeting. She knew she didn’t mean anything to him. 

He’s probably forgotten all about you by now, Tara. 

The thought made her skin burn, making her subconsciously scratch at the scars on her thighs. The sting she got back in return felt deserved. The thought crossed her mind for a moment, but she pushed it away. She had been clean for a while now. She wasn’t ready to ruin it just yet. 

It was usually at night that she allowed herself to think about him wholeheartedly. During the day, she tried her best to ignore it, ignore how her brain felt like it was about to explode. 

She recalled their conversation that afternoon, remembering how he spoke with such sadness and concern in his voice. It kept Tara up at night. She would lay in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the cool tears run down her face. The things he had been through, the things he must have seen and done. It broke her heart. 

She thought about how much she wanted to get to know him completely, inside and out. She wanted to know everything about his life. About his family, his friends, his past lovers. She wants to know what it was like to live during a time of war. What it was like to fight against an entire army the way he did. 

She wanted to know what it was like being kept with Hydra all those years. She wanted to know how it felt to have all those memories taken away. She wanted to wipe away the bad memories like they wiped away the good. 

She spent the week fighting with sleep. She tried so hard to rest, to forget about it all but she couldn’t. She would finally drift off after her tears had dried and her hands stopped shaking with want for the razor blade she kept hidden under the sink. 

Every night, just before the darkness finally enveloped her, she heard the same footsteps climbing the fire escape towards the roof.

The footsteps of a man trying to run away.


	8. Picnic at Hanging Rock

After a week of near misses and long nights of overthinking, the unescapable happened. Tara and Bucky finally crossed paths again.

It was Saturday morning, exactly a week since they first met and Tara was sitting on her fire escape, cup of tea resting on the window ledge and book in hand. She had started reading a new book at the beginning of the week as a way to try and distract herself with something else other than the elephant running wild in her mind. 

She loved to sit out on the fire escape and took every chance she could to enjoy the last of the sunshine before summer was over. It was like her ticket to home whenever she needed it. All she had to do was sit in the sun, take a deep breath and close her eyes and suddenly she was back home, back in Australia. Even though she’s always hated summer, it was guaranteed to make her feel at ease. 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping that Bucky would come out and see her. She just wanted to see his face again, make sure he was okay. If she hadn’t heard his footsteps leaving every night, then she would have been thinking the worst. 

She understood why she never heard a peep from him. Silence feels safer. She knew that all too well. He must be so terrified, just always waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for the wrong person to find him again. 

I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that quiet and loud at the same time, she thought to herself. 

\--

Bucky was sitting on his bed, hands wringing together nervously as he tried to slow down his mind. He hadn’t been able to sleep after his shift that morning, so he was a little on edge. His body was telling him to rest but he just couldn’t. He could hear her, sitting out of the fire escape, music lightly playing from inside her apartment. 

“Put a price on emotion  
I'm looking for something to buy  
You've got my devotion  
But man, I can hate you sometimes

I don't want to fight you  
And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt  
We'll get the drinks in  
So I'll get to thinking of her”

You can’t do this forever Bucky. Sooner or later you are going to have to speak to her. She’s your neighbour after all. Being friendly is what neighbours do, isn’t it? Your mother taught you better than this and you know it. 

If she couldn’t be trusted, if she was working with Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D or someone then they would have come to get him by now. They surely wouldn’t have waited a week, right? They wouldn’t have given him the chance to escape. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to make a new friend, he thought.

He realised it was now or never. If he was going to get over this, this feeling of restlessness he couldn’t shake, then he needed to speak to her. 

He slowly got up from the bed, slipping his gloves back on to hide his metal hand, moving around to make sure not even a sliver was visible. He made the short walk to the window, his mind running faster than he thought possible. 

He took a deep, calming breath and opened the window. The cool summer breeze stuck him in the face before he had a chance to catch his breath. He was thankful for it, hoping it would calm down the redness of his cheeks. 

She looked up then, lowering her book from her face and smiling up at him. She was wearing a dark blue sundress and cream cardigan, legs extended out in front of her, porcelain skin basking in the sun. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun. He noticed spots of paint littering her legs and the tips of her fingers. It was all too familiar. 

“Well, well, well look who it is” She said, voice laced with sarcasm. It was so strange to Bucky, this entire week he thought that as soon as he spoke to her, his anxiety was going to get worse, that his brain might explode. But somehow, he had never felt so calm, so at home. 

“Good morning” He said, giving her a weak smile. He leant back against the brick wall beside his window and crossed his arms. 

“Let me guess, American, right?” She asked, eyebrows raised. Hearing the word ‘American’ hit something inside him. He knew where he was from, he remembered that. He just wasn’t sure he could keep that claim anymore. He didn’t know if he could ever call himself a true American. Not after everything he had done. 

“You have guessed correctly. I may be wrong but Australian, yes?” He asked, tilting his head a little inquisitively. 

“How could you tell?” She said, giving him a sarcastic smirk. He smiled back at her. 

“Let me see if I can pick the area. I’m thinking east coast, maybe Boston or New York?” She said, shuffling a little in her seat, sitting up a little taller. 

“Brooklyn actually” He said with a sincere smile on his face this time. It was the first time in a long time that he really smiled. Smiled without holding back, without feeling like he was hiding a part of him.

“I’ve always wanted to visit New York. Ever since I was young I thought it was this dream city, like the entire world revolved around it” She said, crossing her legs underneath her. 

“Do you still feel that way” He asked with curiosity in his voice. He shifted a little against the brick wall, all of a sudden feeling too far away from her. 

“No, not at all. As I got older, I realised I was just in love with the idea of a big city. No offence to Brooklyn” She said with a cheeky grin. She had a playful side that he loved already. 

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously, trying to keep the conversation going. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it just yet. 

“Oh, its ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’. It’s an Australian classic. It’s set in 1900, all about these private school girls who go missing at this mysterious rock in the Australian outback” She said, holding the book up as she spoke, showing him the cover. 

“Sounds interesting” He said genuinely, honestly valuing everything that she had to say. Her voice was filling his head and he knew he was going to dream about this later.

“You can borrow it once I’m done, if you’d like?” She asked, smiling warmly.

“Yeah. That would be great. Can’t pass up some good old fashioned school-girl-outback-mystery-drama” He said, making her giggle.

They stayed there for a while, idiotic smiles on their faces, hearts racing. After a moment of comfortable silence, she asked him a question, nervously.

“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” She said, pointing inside before picking up her own mug from the window ledge next to her. 

“I don’t drink coffee” He said kindly, concerned he had somehow offended her with his denial. 

“Okay great because I don’t drink it either, so I don’t have it in my house. If you said yes, I don’t know what I would have done” She said, dramatically sighing in relief. They both laughed at that, the sound feeling foreign coming from Bucky’s lips.

“I do have a heap of tea though if that interests you? Unless you’re busy. I’m sorry I should have asked first” She said quickly. She was very aware of how nervous she must be coming across. 

“No, it’s fine. I actually like tea but I can’t stay, I have somewhere to be” He said regretfully. She gave him a weak smile back and he almost thought maybe she was disappointed. 

Did she want me to stay? He wondered. 

“Maybe next time, if you wouldn’t mind having me?” He said. His voice was so soft it made her heart skip a beat. 

There’s no way this man was ever the Winter Soldier, she told herself.

“I’m going to hold you to that Buck” She said. She didn’t even realise the nickname had left her mouth till it was too late. She could have slapped herself out of embarrassment. He smiled though, loving the way the nickname sounded in her accent. 

He went to leave, after giving her a small wave goodbye. He didn’t want to leave, not even a little bit. There was something about her that made him want to tell her everything. He wanted to hand her every last detail he didn’t want to hold on to anymore. It was selfish, he knew that, but he had done worse to better people.

He knew staying around her, out in the open like that was too risky, and not just for him anymore. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her. She didn't deserve that. Maybe another day he would gain up the courage.

Just before he stepped back into his apartment, he stopped. He turned back, taking the sight of her in one last time. He scanned her face, her eyes, the colour swimming in them. He burned into his brain the image of her skin glowing in the sun, the wave of her hair, the tips of her fingers.

“I never caught your name” He said over his shoulder. 

“It’s Tara” She said, small, gentle smile gracing her beautiful lips. 

“Tara…I like it” He smirked before returning inside. 

When Hydra tracked him down again, he didn’t want to forget this. He wouldn’t let them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fine Line - Harry Styles


	9. Apple Pie

Tara had barely been able to sleep that night after her conversation with Bucky. She spent almost the entire day sitting out there on the fire escape, half enjoying the final days of the summer sunshine and half hoping he would come back and see her. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she missed him. As soon as he had walked back into this apartment, she craved to see him again. 

He had looked so beautiful that day, morning light shining against his tan skin. His hair was pushed back behind his ears, hands tucked into the pockets of his black denim jacket. Now that she had a seen all of him, the full view, she realised just how built he was. Huge arms, wide back and strong legs. He was tall, but not so tall that it becomes intimidating. This was the first time she could really see the soldier he once was.

The next day, once the warm feeling Bucky had left in her faded, she realised it could be a while till she saw him again. The idea of him running away, disappearing again before she had the chance to see him once more crossed her mind and she swears she felt something snap in her heart. 

She decided to spend Sunday painting and baking. Cookies in the oven, she started setting the art supplies out on the kitchen table, grabbing a few pots on paint to decide the colour palette. She decided on shades of blue. After mixing the paint and filling her cups, she rolled up her sleeve and started to paint. 

She focused on the canvas in front of her, the cups of paint in her hands to distract her from the elephant in the room she wasn't ready to address. Once the first painting was finished, she paused, listening to the music trickling from the speaker in the kitchen, letting the soft words soak into her skin. 

‘Nothing's gonna hurt you baby  
As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine’

\--

The music and the smell of cookies in the oven mixed in the air, floating through the summer breeze and into Bucky’s apartment. He sat on the couch, eyes closed and leaning back against the cushions. 

His mind was running at a thousand miles a second. He had returned from his shift a few hours earlier but couldn’t will himself to sleep. He couldn’t ignore her presence, nor how badly he wanted to see her again. 

Before yesterday, he welcomed the distraction of work. But now, now he couldn’t ignore her anymore. He spent the entirety of his shift completely wrapped up in her. They way her skin glistened in sunlight. The way her delicate hands held that book. The blue of her eyes run out above the grey of his workplace.

Looking at the clock, he knew he would need to try and get some sleep soon before his next shift later tonight. He pulled himself off the couch and dragged himself to his bed, throwing himself down, covering his face with a pillow, trying to drown out his own mind.

He could hear Tara moving about the kitchen next door, the smell of cookies filling his nostrils. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the smell of baking till now. 

It gave him a sudden flashback of a summer day. The air was sticky and overly sweet, sugar and flour covering his skin. He was young, maybe twelve or thirteen and he was sitting on the kitchen counter with his mother. He remembers the sweet smell of apples and sugar and watching the elegant way that his mother carried herself around the room, like she was floating. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, the memory bringing a smile to his face. It felt good, felt like smiling was natural to whoever he was before the war. He made a mental note to write the memory down later, but it was too late. 

He heard Tara humming along to the music then, her gentle voice filling his head. He realised how desperately he wanted to see her. He knew it wasn’t safe, that every second he spent with her put her in danger. 

He didn’t know to it just yet, but if something were to happen, he would do anything to protect her. 

I need to see her again, don’t I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothings Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes after Sex


	10. Was It My Blood?

Bucky fell in and out of sleep all afternoon. Flashes of the day, his dreams, his memories, all mixing together and forming something close to a nightmare. He was finally jolted out of sleep around four pm.

He shot up in bed, the head rush causing his vision to blur for a second. He closed his eyes tight, pushing the last dregs of his nightmare to the back of his mind and focusing on the sound of the wind blowing outside, of birds chirping to each other. 

After a moment, he pulled himself out of bed, walking unsteadily to the bathroom. He stripped down and stepped into the shower, letting the ice-cold water wake him up. He leaned back against the tiled wall and took a deep breath. 

She’s just a pretty girl. I’ve spoken to pretty women before, I can do it again. Wait, I’ve spoken to women, right? Oh fuck, he cursed at himself. 

After stepping out of the cool spray, he dried himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist. He paused, eyes meeting his own in the mirror. 

Still, even after nearly two years since he last became that monster, this body still felt foreign to him. Like if he didn’t see himself in a reflection for a while he could completely forget his own face.

His eyes lingered down his body, landing on the area where his metal arm met his shoulder. The scars there were angry, thick and raised, like mountains breaking through the horizon. He reached up, grazing the skin lightly with his fingers. It made him flinch, the contact bringing back a memory he had been trying to forget. 

It wasn’t an intense memory, but he remembers screaming. His throat felt raw, like he had been screaming for days, for weeks. His shirt was soaked from the sweat and tears and blood. 

Was it my blood? It must have been, he wondered. 

He remembers screaming louder and louder as his fingers dug into his skin around his newly attached prosthesis, trying desperately to remove it. 

I didn’t want this. Please, someone help me. I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home. Steve? Steve, where are you. Please, someone? Anyone? Please, just kill me. Please! Kill me!

He breathed deep and shook his head, trying desperately to rid the memory from his mind. He gripped the bench and leaned over, willing himself to breathe normally. In, one two three four. Out, one two three four. 

He heard Tara’s footsteps out on the fire escape and fixated on them, trying to calm down his racing heart. The light sounds of her feet walking around the apartment, creaks of the metal landing, the music playing behind it all. 

It was enough to pull him out of his panic attack and walk out of the bathroom, listening intently to her as he dressed. He pulled on a long sleeve shirt and jacket, making sure his gloves and sleeve covered his arm completely. 

Just before he opened the window, he paused, taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself before setting out onto the fire escape. 

It’s now or never. If you don’t speak to her now you’ll regret it, and you’ve regretted enough in your life already, he told himself. 

She was already out there, placing a second painting on the stairs. He smiled at the déjà vu of it all. Her head shot up quickly, surprised at the movement across the way. Bucky noticed her jump a little out of fright, but he didn’t mention it. 

The smile on her face was larger than life as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall, trying to come across as cavalier. Inside, it felt like someone had grabbed her lungs and squeezed, taking all the air with them. 

“We have to stop meeting like this mate” She said sarcastically, her accent coming through thick and noticeable. He smirked back at her, his heart warming at the Australian slang and nodded in agreement.

“Can I make you some tea this time? If you aren’t busy that is” She asked, gesturing inside towards the kitchen. 

“I’d love some” He said. 

Just like the eye of the storm, he thought. Chaos, chaos, calm.


	11. Privilege

It was an easy feat for Bucky to jump over the relatively small gap to Tara’s fire escape. It surprised her just how easy it was for him, looking at the distance and picturing herself trying to pull off the same crossing. She could only imagine it wouldn’t end so well. 

“What type of tea would you like?” She asked with the most genuine smile he thinks he’s seen in a very long time. He just replied with the only type of tea he could remember. He thinks it was his mother’s favourite. 

“Black tea, if you have it” He asked apprehensively, watching as she smiled and climbed back into here apartment. 

“Any sugar or milk?” She asked, throwing a look back to him over her shoulder as she reached into the cabinet above her. 

“Neither, thank you” He replied. He gave her a weak smile, feeling slightly nervous being in her private space like this. He had been alone for so long that company felt wrong. It felt like a privilege he had lost a long time ago. 

She had her hair worn out, flowing in the gentle breeze. She was wearing a sundress, dark blue with little white flowers and a cream sweater over the top. The dress came to her knees, dancing around them as she walked around the apartment. 

He noticed a tattoo on her ankle, deciding to store that away to ask about it later if the time ever came. He wondered if she had anymore scattered around her body, like the notebooks Steve used to scribble in on their off days. 

She pulled another large cushion outside for him to sit on before returning inside to make him his drink. He sat down, feeling like a giant sitting cross legged on the floor. He realised that he probably hadn’t felt or looked this vulnerable in a long time. 

The sudden feeling of being exposure made his skin itch. A voice in the back of his head was screaming at him, begging him to run while he still had a choice. 

Tara doesn’t work for them. She isn’t going to hurt you. She would have done it by now. You know that.

He knew if anything went wrong, he had a knife strapped to his ankle. The cold sting of the blade against his skin was a constant reminder of the life he had to live now, if you can even call it that. 

He watched through the window as she drifted around the kitchen, finding her favourite mug to give to him. It was shaped like a raccoon, a gift from her mother. 

It made her giggle a little, thinking that she was about to hand the world’s most deadly assassin the stupidest mug she owned. As the water finished boiling, she paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm down her rattling nerves.   
Before heading back outside, she went to her phone, pressing shuffle on her ‘Reading’ playlist. She knew it was full of slow, quiet songs. The type of songs she wanted to hear muffled out behind his soothing, gentle voice. 

She returned, mugs in hand and smile on her lips. She handed him his cup and placed her own the small table next to her. He looked at the table, noticing her art covering it.

“Did you paint that?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink, letting the hot liquid calm him down. He noticed the design of his cup, smirking at it before looking back at her. 

“Yeah I did. It was for work originally but didn’t end up suiting the overall design so I kept it. I’ve got a couple of them lying around” She said over the rim of her cup, before taking a timid sip and returning it to its place. 

She leant back slightly, taking in the sight of him. He looked so innocent sitting there, cross legged and clutching his raccoon mug. He was wearing dark jeans, a faded red long sleeve shirt and black gloves. So intimidating yet so harmless at the same time. 

She wondered when the last time might have been that he just sat down and had a conversation with someone that wasn’t about his past. What he had done. What he had seen. What they needed him to do. 

“What do you do for work?” He asked, settling further into the soft cushion underneath him and leaning back just a little. 

“I work for a home furnishings company as an interior designer” She said timidly. The confusion on his face spoke volumes. It was clear he had no idea what the hell that meant. She continued. 

“I design what we call ‘roomsets’. I come up with the entire design of a fake room and put it all together. Furniture, textiles, artwork, decoration, lighting, all of it. I studied Interior Design back home in Australia.” He titled his head, like he was trying to understand exactly what she meant. It was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. 

“So, you create fake rooms?” He asked, voice laced with confusion. He knew careers had changed since his time, but not this much. 

“Yeah exactly. I mostly create bedrooms. I worked for the same company back home and when I decided to move here they helped me transfer. Luckily there was an interior designer role just waiting for me” She said. The face of concentration he had while he hung onto her every word was incredibly endearing. It made her feel like he actually cared about what she had to say, not just listening for politeness sake. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of that before, but it sounds interesting. Do you enjoy it?” He asked, taking another sip of his tea. 

“Yeah I do. Most of the time it’s pretty relaxing. Just planning out new designs and researching trends, but when it’s time to implement new roomsets, that’s when it can get a little overwhelming” She said honestly. 

“Overwhelming how?” He sounded concerned. Genuinely, wholeheartedly concerned. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone seemed worried about her, even in a small way like this.

“I guess it’s just the pressure to get things done. The deadlines can be really harsh sometimes. They expect so much done in such a short amount of time and it doesn’t help that I usually implement these things alone” She continued. 

“But don’t get me wrong, I love seeing what I create come to life. It’s actually my favourite part of the job. But, the expectations are so high that it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes. Especially when I need to change my design last minute, which happens way more often then I like to admit” She said, taking a long sip of her drink. 

He gave her an empathetic smile. He knew what it felt like to have his plans thrown up in the air only to land back down in an order you never wanted. 

“What about you? What do you do for work?” She asked with curiosity as she brought the mug up to her face again, fingers wrapping around what looks like – is that a flamingo shaped mug? He tossed up lying to her for a moment before giving in and admitting the truth. 

“Oh, I um. I work nightshift for a shipping company down at the docks. Packing containers. Nothing as special as designing fake bedrooms I’m afraid” He said, making her laugh. 

“Oh, so is that where you go every night?” She said before she could stop herself. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her face heat up with embarrassment. Oh, for fuck sake, Tara. Why are you like this?

“Have you noticed that?” He said, voice coming out like stone. He really did try to stay calm after hearing that. He tried to pretend it didn’t make him a little nervous, but it did. She had heard him. If she had noticed, who else had? 

It’s okay Bucky. She isn’t going to hurt you. If anyone else has figured it out, then you go to plan B. It’s going to be fine.

“Oh Jesus. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I promise I wasn’t purposely trying to stalk you. I guess living alone has made me hyper-sensitive to unknown noises” She said apologetically. Her accented voice broke him out of his internal dilemma. He could almost taste the embarrassment on her lips. 

“It’s fine. I’m sorry if I’ve woken you up” He replied. He gave her a small sympathetic smile, trying to hide the stress on his face the best he could.

“No, no you haven’t. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately anyway” She said, looking down at her mug before take a long sip of her drink. 

Even though he wanted to, he didn’t ask why. He knew everyone had their own problems, their own secrets. Their own demons to keep them up at night. It wasn’t his business to pry into her life like that. 

He wanted to know everything about this girl, but again, this was a privilege he no longer deserved from anyone. 

They fell into a comfortable silence then, both just giving each other gentle smiles and warm eyes over the rims of their equally ridiculous mugs. Leaning back, Tara held her gaze on him, breathing deeply. 

This man couldn’t hurt anyone, she thought. I don't think he ever did.


	12. Did You Become Who You Wanted To Be?

Bucky could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she looked at him intently. It felt she was analysing his face, committing it to memory. It usually made him feel a little uneasy, having someone look at him like that, but with Tara, it felt different. Different in a way he didn’t quite understand yet. 

Seeing him sitting there, sunshine making his skin glow, the soft way he smiled at her when she spoke, warmed a spot of her heart she had forgotten all about. She realised he probably hasn’t looked this small, this tender in a long, long time. It felt like her chest was going to explode any second.

“What’s Australia like? I’ve always wanted to visit” He said, looking down at his hands, trying to keep the topic of discussion away from him. Her eyes lit up at the mention of her homeland, big smile growing on her lips. 

“It’s great, if you love hot weather and being surrounded by thousands of animals that can kill you instantly.” She said sarcastically. He laughed with her, but he could tell there was more to the story, more than what was on the surface. 

“Are all of those clichés really true?” He asked, eyebrow raised. 

“No, not all of them. Yeah, there is a lot of deadly animals but 90% of them you’ll never see in your lifetime. The weather really is as rough as it seems though. Actually, it’s probably worse than people think. But I hate summer, so I always struggled with the heat” She continued. 

“As for the running joke that all Australians are drop-kicks who just drink beer and ride kangaroos to school, I can confirm that it’s all one-hundred percent true.” She smirked at him over the rim of her mug as she took a sip of her drink, making him chuckle. He reminded himself to try and figure out what ‘drop-kick’ meant later. 

“What about New York? What was Brooklyn like growing up?” She asked, internally cringing as she remembered the brainwashing, the memory wiping. She didn’t know how much of his old life he could recall at this stage, but she had to assume it wasn’t much. 

“It was interesting to say the least. It was always busy, never a quiet moment. It was like growing up inside an engine that couldn’t turn off. Pretty overwhelming sometimes” He said, continuing. 

“Once I turned 23 I was ready to leave. I guess I wanted to get out there and try and make something of myself” He said with more honestly than she was expecting. He was even a little shocked. He didn’t realise he had all that in him until he poured it into her lap. 

“It’s funny, isn’t it? My whole life growing up I thought about leaving, about going somewhere else and starting again. But now that I’m away from it, I’ve never loved the place more. Everything I hated about it is what I miss the most now” She said, sighing as she leaned back further against the brick wall behind her. 

The look they gave each other said more than words could. They both wanted to know more about the other, to hear about their lives, but neither of them wanted to intrude. They were both too scared to ruin the moment.

What is your earliest memory? Did you enjoy school? Who was your first friend? First pet? Siblings? Parents names? Did you get along with them? Have you ever been in love? Do you want to be? What scares you the most? What are you afraid of? What did you want to be when you grew up? Did you become who you wanted to be? Are you happy?

Tara cleared her throat, taking a sip of her drink before continuing. She didn’t want to break the moment but she was scared of what might come out of her mouth if he kept looking at her like that, like she mattered to him. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Mark Hamill?” She blurted out randomly, panicking a little. He looked back at her with puzzlement. 

“Who?” He asked, thoroughly confused. 

“The actor? You know, he played Luke Skywalker? The main character from the original Star Wars trilogy?” She said. He still looked at her like she was speaking another language. 

Of course, he doesn’t know what Star Wars is you idiot. He was in and out of cyro-freeze for 70 years, remember? She thought to herself.

“I’m guessing you’ve never the films?” She said, smiling a little to herself. She had a plan forming in her head already. 

“I can’t say I have” He said, hopeful for what this could mean. He could practically feel the nerves flowing off of her. She looked down at her hands, picking a little at her nails. 

“Well then I think you’ll have to come over and watch them with me. I’d love to make you dinner sometime. If you’re interested that is?” She said, soft smile on her lips, cheeks blushing a subtle shade of embarrassed. 

He smiled at her, noticing how flustered she got towards the end of her question. She was anxiously waiting for a response and he could tell she was expecting the worst. 

“I would love to. I have to work later tonight but maybe next week?” He said regretfully. 

It was starting to get late now; the sun was beginning to set and bring the cold with it. He begrudgingly got up from his comfortable spot on the ground and thanked her for the tea. 

They made a plan to have dinner next Friday night. She said to him, almost ashamed, that she wasn’t a great cook, but he didn’t care. Anything she made for him would taste like nothing less than perfect. 

After he made the short jump back over to his apartment building, he turned and looked at her once more, clinging desperately to the memory of this afternoon. He was praying he’d still remember it all in the morning. 

He wished he could just go into his head and burn out any trace of Hydra, of the things they did and the words they said. He wanted to replace it all with her voice, her eyes, her smile, the smell of her hair, the paint on her skin.

“Thank you, Tara. I’ll see you soon”


	13. So, It's A Date?

The week seemed to pass by in such a sluggish blur, that not even her massive workload managed to help speed up the time. 

She was stuck in the office all week, planning the new rebuild of one of her roomsets. She usually loved this part of her job but right now she wished to be doing something more time consuming, something that she needed to completely surrender her mind over to. 

She had too much time alone for her own good. She’s never really been a people person, but right now she’d happily welcome any distraction for the shaking in her hands and thoughts in her head. She found herself mentally counting down the hours till Friday night, growing more and more nervous as the day grew closer. Now that it was here, she could feel her heart practically beating out of her chest. 

She knew she wasn’t exactly being a model employee of late. She was becoming distracted, even a little restless. Usually that wouldn’t be a big deal, she’d just slap herself out of it and get back to work without anyone batting an eye, but she wasn’t the only person to notice. 

It was late on Friday afternoon and Tara was sitting at her desk. She had her floor plans on the desk in front of her, pen in her mouth, head in the clouds as she watched them float past from the window, the sky the most beautiful shade of blue. It was the same colour as his eyes, she thought. 

“Tara, are you alright?” Finn asked abruptly, making Tara jump a little. She whipped around to find Finn looking at her from his desk beside her. He had a look of concern bordering annoyance. 

“Yeah. Yeah of course. Why?” She replied, fumbling with the pen between her teeth. She immediately began scrolling aimlessly through the matrix she had left on her screen, failing to look busy. 

“It’s just that you’ve been walking around like a zombie lately. Somethings going on I can tell” He said. She kept her eyes on the screen for a moment, trying to decide how to approach this. She knew she couldn’t tell him about who Bucky really is, but she wondered if mentioning her new, unnecessarily attractive neighbour would be such a bad thing. She turned back towards him, shooting him a nervous smile. 

They had been desk neighbours since she started working at the store six months ago and took an instant liking to each other. He was always so welcoming and easy to talk to. He was the kind of guy you could rely on. Someone you could go to for advice. The kind of guy you’d think you could trust. 

They bonded over their shared love of Japanese food and crime podcasts. She often found herself getting his advice with designs she was struggling with, basking in the wealth of knowledge Finn had after his years of experience as a designer. They had become good friends, she thought. Maybe she should tell him. 

“It’s this guy. My new neighbour actually. We had tea together on Sunday and I honestly can’t stop thinking about him” She leant her head back, staring at the ceiling and sighed.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but I don’t know. I just really like him Finn. There’s something about him….” She took a deep breath, rolling her eyes at her own clichéd choice of words.

“It’s not like he would be into me in that way anyway. I mean the guy looks like a God and I’m over here looking like the skip bin out back. Just full of old furniture and fruit peels. Just a big old bag of trash” She said, laughing bitterly to nobody but herself. 

Eyes still on the ceiling, she missed the heartbreak that flashed across his eyes at her confession. If he was lying to himself, he could say it was comical that she hadn’t seemed to realise his feelings for her. He had been trying and failing to make his intentions known for months but he hadn’t been able to do it. Now he knew he might have lost his chance completely. 

It hurt his heart to hear her speak like that. Not just about herself, but of someone else. Someone that wasn’t him. He let out a long, quiet sigh.

“It’s not stupid. What is stupid is you not realising how incredible you are. He’s lucky to even get a cup of tea from you” They gave each other weak smiles as she tilted her head towards him, looking at him from the corner of her eye. 

“When are you seeing him again?” He asked dejectedly. He wanted to run away from this topic, from every idea of her falling in love with someone else. But deep down, he needed to know. He needed to know all of it. 

“Tonight. I’m making him dinner and we’re watching Star Wars. He’s never seen it surprisingly” She said, smile dancing on her lips as she realised how soon she’d get to see him again. 

“So, it’s a date?” He said. The words came out of his mouth with sharpness, like it physically hurt him to say it. She didn’t notice the tone, too wrapped in her own thoughts.

“Oh no. No… No, definitely not a date” She said quickly, defensively. She sat up straight in her chair, shaking her head at the idea. A date was serious. A date meant he was interested in her. A date was too much to handle. 

“I hate to break it to you Tara, but that sounds a lot like a date” He said, turning back to his own screen and continuing his work, falling back into a tense silence. 

Tara swung around in her chair, facing the window again. The clouds outside had shifted, turning dark and angry. 

Lightness destroyed by dark. Hope swallowed.


	14. Don't Run

Bucky heard Tara unlock her front door around four pm, listening to the faint noises of her throwing her keys and bag down, kicking off her heavy steel cap boots. 

He felt his breathe pick up, the tell-tale signs of nervousness. This time however, he wasn’t sure if it was a bad kind of nervous. Is this excitement? Is this what it used to feel like? He wondered. 

He knew getting involved with this girl, even in the most innocent of ways, would only end in disaster. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time and it worried him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe he was going to regret this. But still, somehow, there was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him to stay. 

He wasn’t naïve to his situation, as hard as he tried to ignore it. He knew he couldn’t stay there forever and that he would need to keep moving soon. Still, he wondered if enjoying it while it lasted was such a bad idea. 

Tara had told him to come over any time after four thirty, saying she just needed time to shower and clean her apartment a little after work. From where he was standing, he could hear the shower turn on, the door close shut. 

He walked away from the window and sat on the lounge, eyes flicking to the clock every few minutes, willing it to go faster. He began flexing his hand, clenching it into a fist over and over, anything to distract himself for the dull ticking of the clock.

He watched as the metal plates would shift and click together with the movement. He knew if he thought too much about it, it would only lead him into a darker place he didn’t want to revisit. Not right now. Not before his date – No. It’s not a date. Tara doesn’t like me like that. She could never like me like that, he scolded himself. 

He slides his glove back on, pushing it up till it met his jacket sleeve. The weather was starting to cool down as it grew closer to winter, so he opted for a beanie instead of his usual dark cap. 

He looked at the clock again and it read four thirty-eight pm. He could hear Tara walking around her apartment now, the sound of glasses clinking and padded feet hurrying about. 

He paced over to the window, looking out and seeing Tara standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island facing him. She was typing away on her phone distracted. She seemed worried, her brows furrowed in concern. 

Seeing her like that made him move forward instinctively, stepping out onto the fire escape. He barely had a chance to reconsider before he stepped up onto the guard rail and leap across. The sound of his feet hitting her landing made her jump, phone thumping on the countertop as it slipped for her hands. 

“Jesus Christ Buck, you scared me” She stood up straight, hand covering her heart. She walked around the counter, giving Bucky a better look at her for the first time in a week.   
Seeing her, standing there, jeans and warm sweater, polka-dot socks on her feet, made him realise something. Something he had been trying to bury away. He had missed her. 

“I’m sorry Tara. I didn’t mean to frighten you” He stayed outside, conscious of the boundary between them. It felt silly, she had invited him over after all, but he didn’t want to cross a line with her. He felt like she was starting to trust him. He couldn’t ruin that. Not yet.

“Come inside. And can you close the window behind you please, its freezing” He stepped inside and was met with the overwhelming smell of her. Paint, green apples, fresh linen. 

It was subtle but his improved senses made it overwhelming in the best way possible. He paused for a second, window half closed. His training was screaming at him, telling him to run, that this wasn’t safe. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, running through the usual routine in his head. 

She won’t hurt me. Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run. 

He closed the window slowly, turning back to look at her. She was walking over to the fridge, pulling out a cider. If she had noticed his moment of hesitation, she wasn’t letting it on. 

“Can I get you something to drink? Cider, wine, tea?” She asked, raising the can of cider in her hand in suggestion. 

“A tea would be nice. Thank you” He said. He stood awkwardly by the window, looking around her apartment as she turned and started making his drink. 

It was cosy, full of little knick-knacks and plants, cushions and paintings. He looked in the kitchen, noticing a row of novelty mugs lining the back countertop, close to the kettle. 

She had bookshelves filled with novels, none of which he recognised. There were photos everywhere of people Bucky didn’t know, people with stories and lives and memories. He wanted to know it all. He wanted to know the story behind everything she owned. 

It was cluttered in a way that didn’t feel cluttered at all. Chaos, chaos, calm. 

Tara turned around, leaning against the countertop, the kettle heating up behind her. The way that he stood there made her a little nervous, like he was on the edge of sprinting. She watched as he looked around her apartment, eyes fluttering over everything. She felt so exposed in that moment, like he was witnessing her entire life playback in front of him. 

He looked back towards her and found her piercing blue eyes looking back at him already, making Bucky freeze up. She patted the countertop next to her, gesturing for him to come and sit next to her. He walked over cautiously, unconsciously counting his steps in preparation of a quick escape. 

He sat down on the bar stool as she turned and finished making his drink. He watched as she grabbed the same raccoon shaped mug from the row of cups. It made his heart warm a little at the gesture. 

“Not a drinker?” She asked. She turned to face him as the kettle boiled. He was a little confused by the question until she brought her cider to her lips and raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh, you mean alcohol. No, not really. Not anymore” He said. She knew what he truly meant by that, even if he didn’t realise it. She couldn’t tell him yet. It was too early. If he knew she had realised the truth, then he’d run. She couldn’t risk that. Not yet. 

“So, how was your week? Anything exciting at work?” She said, speaking over her shoulder as the water boiled. 

“Very uneventful” He paused, composing himself before speaking. He knew what he was about to say could end this before it had even started. 

“To be completely honest, I spent the week just counting down the seconds until tonight” He said, eyes barely holding her gaze. He was waiting for rejection. He was ready to run. 

She froze, her heart feeling like it was about to stop. She was still facing away from him, half way through stirring his drink. She turned and placed the mug down in front of him, sitting up on the countertop across from him. She looked into his eyes, watching the nerves swimming behind the blue. The blue of the ocean. The blue of the sky during a storm. 

“You know what, I have to agree with you. I’ve been really looking forward to tonight” She said, smiling at him wholeheartedly. His lips twitched into a smile as he took a timid grip of his mug. 

The look they gave each other said it all. It was out now, out in the open. They were longing for each other’s company and they both knew it. Too late to take it back. Too late to forget about it. 

They were terrified with the vulnerability that hung in the air but they were both happy to swim in it.


	15. A New Hope

“What do you miss most about America?” Tara asked, back facing Bucky as she stirred their dinner in the pot in front of her. He was still perched in his spot at the kitchen island, looking around the room, making a mental note of the type of locks she used on her front door. 

After discussing each other’s mundane past week, they had fallen into a comfortable silence. The only noise was the gentle music playing in the background. It was nice, having someone there, Tara thought. Someone to fill the silence, even if it was just the comforting sounds of their breathing. 

“I don’t know. I think I miss being surrounded by familiar things. Even if I don’t remember them the same way anymore, it just feels like where I’m meant to be”. He said. Tara didn’t have to look at him to know the sadness in his eyes. 

She knew he was trying to be coy, make it seem less serious, less real then it really was. She felt guilty for keeping it a secret, for not telling him that she knew the truth, but she knew it was for the best to wait. Or at least that’s what she told herself. 

“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. You could drop me anywhere in Australia and it would feel like home” She said, leaning back against the countertop and facing him. He was sitting up straight, rigid, like he was struggling to relax. 

He stood up, walking to the sink to rinse out his empty mug. He turned and stood against the bench. They were only a few steps apart now. Being this close to each other meant she could smell him, his warmth, his natural cologne making her heart race. 

“So, what about you? What do you miss the most about Australia?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. 

She looked lost in thought for a moment, smiling more to herself then to him. He took the moment to look at her, to really look at her. Her skin was smooth and delicate, like porcelain, with the longest eyelashes Bucky thinks he’s ever seen. He noticed freckles splattered across her nose, like a gentle kiss from the sun. 

“I know that this is the most cliché thing any Australian living away from home can say, but I really miss vegemite. Look, I know everyone gives it a lot of shit and says it’s disgusting but it is so good. Everyone is just eating it the wrong way” She said, smile wide.

“You can’t buy it here?” He questioned, tilting his head slightly. He recalls hearing about the stuff back in the war. He remembers the Australian enlisted men rambling on about how much they missed the stuff. Bucky always wondered what he was missing. 

“You can. There’s a few stores around the city that stock it but I just haven’t had a chance to go and get it yet. Work has been crazy lately with the autumn launch. I’ll need to get some soon though, my supply ran out nearly two months ago and I’m starting to get withdrawal” She said giggling, turning back to the bubbling pot behind her. 

“Trust me, when I finally get a jar I’m making you try some” She added, making him laugh. 

-

After dinner was served, they settled down on the couch. Tara sat with her knees pulled underneath her and bowl resting on a pillow tucked into her lap. Bucky sat on the other side of the lounge, conscious on not getting too close to her. 

He told himself it was because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but deep down, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be that close to her. 

What if something goes wrong? What if I hurt her? What if I lash out and she can’t get away from me in time? He asked himself. 

“You sure you still want to watch this? We can watch something else if you aren’t keen on this" She said, pulling up the movie and stalling before hitting play. Tara was a cliché over thinker. If her fear of being late didn’t overpower, she’d overthink what socks to wear to work. 

“No, I want to see this. If you think it’s good then I trust you” He said, small smile gracing his lips. It was true, and even if he couldn’t explain it just yet, he did trust her.

She smiled back at him, feeling her body shiver with his smooth voice. She begun the movie, watching Bucky out of the corner of her eye as the words began to crawl across the screen.

“In long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …

Episode IV  
A New Hope

It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking  
from a hidden base, have won their first victory against  
the evil Galactic Empire.

During the battle, Rebel spies managed to steal secret  
plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon, the DEATH  
STAR, an armoured space station with enough power to  
destroy an entire planet.

Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess  
Leia races home aboard her starship, custodian of the  
stolen plans that can save her people and restore  
freedom to the galaxy.....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its such a small chapter! I'll post a few more chapters over the weekend to make up for it.


	16. It's Too Late and You Know It

“So, what did you think?” Tara asked nervously from her side of the couch. She was still curled up in the corner, hugging a pillow, blanket over her feet. Bucky had remained pretty still through the movie, barely moving an inch from what Tara could tell. But what she couldn’t see was that his mind had been running like crazy, memorized by the story that had just played out in front of him. 

They had spent the majority of the movie in silence, with Tara glancing over to him every now and then, trying to read is face. She wanted to make sure he was enjoying it, that he was enjoying her company. 

More importantly, she wanted to watch him. She wanted to selfishly sit back and take him in. His natural scent, the way he would clench and unclench his hands slowly whenever a fight came on screen, the way his eyes would widen whenever some crazy, mutant creature made an appearance. 

She wondered if he had ever seen something like this. She could only imagine how different, how advanced this was compared to the films of his childhood. 

“I really liked it” He said, turning to her with a genuine smile on his face, one that made his whole face light up. It was a smile that took all the nervous out of her body and snuffed them out like a cigarette. 

“Can I make you another cup of tea?” She said as she stood up, collecting their plates and cups and taking them to the sink.

“I would love one. If that’s okay” He said softly, afraid that he was overstaying his welcome. She started to make the drinks, pulling out his mug. It’s his mug now, isn’t it? She wondered. She knew the answer. 

“So, seeing as though you liked it, does that mean you’ll watch the other films with me?” She said, turning around and shooting Bucky a cheeky smile over her shoulder, eyebrows raised and ready to convince him if he turned her down. 

“Wait, there’s more than one?” He said deadpanned, eyes wide in surprise. His voice had a tint of real excitement to it, something that surprised Bucky. He couldn’t remember the last time he was excited about something. The prospect of getting to spent more time with Tara was something he could finally, wholeheartedly, be enthusiastic about. 

“Yeah, there’s about seven other Star Wars films and more coming out over the next few years” She said, giggling at him as she began pouring the boiling water into their cups.

She walked back over and handed Bucky his mug before sitting back on the couch next to him. She tucked her feet up and leaned back against the cushions. He turned slightly so he was facing her, relaxing back a bit. She felt like maybe he was finally starting to trust her. 

They looked at each for what felt like lifetimes. Just sitting there, tea in hand, small smiles and glances given between sips. Being so close to one another made Bucky feel like his teenage self again, or what he thought he might have been like.   
The longer he spent with Tara, the more he let himself drown in those ocean eyes. Whenever he came up for air, he felt more and more like his old self. 

“Why did you leave Australia?” He said abruptly, words coming out before he could stop himself. He saw the moment of shock that flashed across her eyes, making him immediately start to back pedal.

“I’m sorry. I’m being too intrusive. You don’t have to answer that” He said in the most stern, apologetic tone he could muster. She gave him a small smile and shook her head to dismiss his worries. 

“I know it’s hard to believe with my blonde hair and blue eyes and Germanic facial structure but my family is actually Dutch. I came here to be closer to my mother and honestly, I just needed to get out of Australia” She said, waving her hand around her face theatrically as she spoke. 

She was a little shocked at how comfortable she felt telling him this, but she hoped he wasn’t planning on probing further. There were things she just wasn’t ready to tell him yet.

“Don’t look at me like that it wasn’t like I had to leave, I just couldn’t stand being there anymore.” She said with a smirk, noticing the raised eyebrow of suspicion he was giving her.   
He nodded at that, not wanting to intrude any further. He felt privileged that she had even answered his question to begin with. 

“Do you think you’ll go back someday?” He asked quietly, feeling like if he spoke too loud the world would hear them. This was only for them. No one else got to be this close to her right now. 

“I know I will eventually. I’ve been here for six months now but I don’t know when I’ll leave yet. Still, I guess you can’t run from home forever.” She admitted. She leant a little closer to him then and he followed suit. 

They were close now, only an arm’s length apart. She could feel the warmth coming off him in waves. She wanted so badly to lean forward and close the gap between them, for their lips to meet. It was all she had been thinking about in the back of her mind for weeks. 

“No, you certainly can’t run from your past. Even when it doesn’t feel like yours anymore” He said, worried that his choice of wording could lead her to the truth he wasn’t prepared to tell. 

They looked into each other eyes carefully, the intensity building. It felt like they were living in a bubble. A world where no one else existed but them. Their past, who they used to be, was forgotten. It was a world where she still had a family and he had never killed anyone. 

It was peaceful, the calmest either of them had felt in a very long time. It was like laying in the middle of the ocean, floating, looking up at the stars. Weightlessness.

Neither of them wanted to be the ones to break the silence but the air started to feel so thick that Bucky felt like he was beginning to suffocate. His training was starting to take over and he knew he needed to get out of there. He had been exposed for too long and it felt like his cover was blown, completely this time. This was too dangerous. Not just for him.

“Well, it’s pretty late. Thank you for dinner” He said as he rose from his seat, taking her empty cup from her hands and placing them both in the sink. 

She stood up as well and walked with him to the window. He could tell there was so much she wanted to say but he was glad she didn’t say anything. He knew if she begged him, he wouldn’t leave. 

“Thank you for coming. I really enjoyed this” She said, giving him a warm parting smile. 

He nodded in agreement and stepped out on the fire escape, making the quick jump over to his apartment. She sat down on the window ledge and watched him open his window. 

For a brief moment, he could hear the old Bucky screaming out, trying desperately to be heard above the training routine repeating in his head. He was telling him to stop, to turn around, to jump back over there and give her a proper goodbye. He was begging him to trust her, to trust anyone. So, he listened. 

He stopped, turning to look at her one last time, taking in how the soft shadow of the lights behind her made her hair glow. He knew this was a bad idea but he couldn’t help himself. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night? I would love to see the next film if you don’t have any plans?” He said slowly, pushing the words out past the voice in his head tell him to run. 

“Come over whenever you want. I’m home all day. We could even fit in the next two if you really want to spend that much time with me” She said, crossing her legs out in front of her. 

“I really do” His reply was so quick it surprised them both. The smile on their lips was filled with excitement, bubbling over and filling their eyes with affection.

“Well…Goodnight Buck” She said delicately, words barely reaching him in one piece. 

“Goodnight Tara”

-

He knew he should just started packing his things and gotten out of Hoek van Holland, out of The Netherlands, even Europe for good. He was putting Tara in serious danger by being here and letting himself get so close to her. 

This is bad. This is really bad, he thought. 

He told himself that over and over again until he was on the brink of passing out. Before the darkness around him won the fight, he had a moment of clarity, a moment of weightlessness. 

It’s too late and you know it, Buck.


	17. Moonlight

Bucky hadn’t been able to get much sleep last night. After returning to his apartment, he laid awake for hours, managing to get a few hours of rest before a nightmare shook him awake. 

He tried miserably to force himself back to sleep but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He watched the moonlight cast shadows across the ceiling, watching as they moved with a sense of grace he had once seen twice before. She was close enough to him last night that he could have just reached out and touched her. 

He hated to admit it, but he so badly wanted to grab her hand and hold it in his. He wanted to feel the heat of someone’s skin against his. Body against body. Fingers intertwined. No violence, no blood, no death. Just warmth.

She’s close enough to touch, isn’t that the problem?

Around three am he resigned himself to the idea of getting anymore rest and decided to head up to the roof. Dragging himself out of bed, feet landing heavy on the floor, he pulled on a warm sweater over his t-shirt, grabbing the closest pair of jeans. 

The wind was starting to pick up outside as he stepped out onto the landing. He took the stairs as quietly as he could, making sure he didn’t wake Tara who was hopefully sleeping peacefully not too far away. Once he reached the top, he walked over to the far side of the building, facing the ocean. 

It was dark across the town, only a few dim lights on at this hour. He wondered if those people couldn’t sleep either. If any of them were scared to fall asleep again too. If any of them couldn’t trust their own minds long enough to rest. 

His apartment wasn’t that close to the sea, but he could see it clearly from this vantage point. The moonlight was bouncing off the waves delicately, the curves reminding him of Tara. The curve of her smile, of her nose, her full figure. The curls of her hair. If he had never seen her before this moment, he might think this view was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He stayed sitting on the ledge, looking out over the ocean, for what felt like hours. As the sun started to rise, he watched as slowly more and more windows lit up, more and more people beginning their days. 

The unwelcomed visitor of daylight reminded him that he was still a wanted man. Sunlit meant he was visible. Being visible can get you recognised. Being recognised gets you killed. 

He climbed down from his perch on the ledge and started walking back towards the stairs. He stepped lightly, hyperaware of how loud his steps were in the stillness of the morning. 

He closed the window behind him and stumbled to the bedroom, kicking off his shoes and he walked. He collapsed back into bed, only managing to yank off his sweater before he pulled the blanket over him. He closed his heavy eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of cars passing by and the birds singing with the rising sun.  
Just before he started to drift off, a memory of the nightmare from that morning flashed across his mind. He shot straight up, throwing himself out of bed and standing in the middle of the room. 

His chest was heaving, breath coming out in panicked bursts as he looked down at his metal hand, clenching it into a fist. 

\---

Everything was hazy and the air was thick with smoke. I was standing in a cold room, a room I had been in countless times before. I always hated the way this room smelt. Gasoline and copper. Fire and blood. Always the same. 

I could hear crying and the tone sounded familiar. Do I know this person? It sounds like a woman? I tried to make myself move, to run out of there, but my feet felt like cement. I was anchored to the floor by something I couldn’t feel. 

My head was killing me. It felt like I’d been kicked in the skull a hundred times over. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, running like a freight car, and the feeling of it sent shooting pains all through my body. 

Something didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel like I was in control. My legs started moving and suddenly there was something in my hand, my metal fingers tightening over a young woman’s throat. I could feel her heartbeat, fast and panicked, under my palm. 

I looked down into her eyes. She was terrified.

I had her pinned against the wall and she was desperately trying to breathe. Her hands were grabbing at me, trying to pull my arms away. Her fingernails dug into the skin of my flesh arm, into my neck, into my chest, anywhere she could touch, drawing blood. 

I didn’t stop. I watched the colour fade from her eyes.

I heard the bones crack and break under my fingertips. I snapped her neck like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.

I knew those eyes.


	18. Runaway

Tara woke up on Saturday morning and for a split second she thought the previous night had never happened. She shot up in bed, eyes darting around the room, looking for a sign to tell her that it really was too good to be true. It didn’t feel real to her, not in the slightest. 

She flopped back down against the pillow, closing her eyes and trying to remember everything she could from the previous night. The way Bucky had smiled at the film, the way he smelt, his warmth, his body so close to hers. She had wished so badly for the courage to just reach out and touch him. She knew better than that. She knew the limits. 

She rolled over and grabbed her phone from the side table, checking the time. It was nine eighteen am, the longest she had slept in months. She had gotten so used to the feeling of being exhausted that she had forgotten how it felt to be this rested. She felt restored, even just a little bit. 

After replying to some messages, checking her work emails and scrolling through social media, she remembered that she told Bucky to come over whenever he liked. She quickly ripped off her blankets in a panic, stripping off as she walked across the apartment towards the bathroom. 

After a few minutes of letting the warm water relax her nervous muscles, she stepped out of the shower and dried off. She made a conscious effort to dry the scars on her legs and arms without looking at them. She didn’t need to think about them right now. 

She walked back to her room, stepping quickly past the window, cautious of the wide-open curtains. She pulled out some clothes for the day, deciding on some black jeans and her favourite t-shirt. It was white and oversized, even on her full figure. 

It was a stupid shirt, a Christmas gift from her sister years ago. It sported a cockatoo drinking a cocktail, emblazoned with the words ‘Takin’ it Easy’. Every time she wore it, it reminded her of the person she missed the most back home. 

She walked out of her bedroom, heading into the kitchen and over to her speaker, pressing shuffle on her most recent playlist. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the first few bars of the music before turning on the kettle. 

“She speaks like the wind,  
But she howls at the moon.  
She runs like the sun in the winter,  
She’s not coming home soon”

She sat up on the counter as the water boiled, looking out the window at Bucky’s apartment. She hoped he was still sleeping, getting some much-needed rest. She could only imagine the mental and physical exhaustion he must feel every day. 

She just wished she could do something to help him. She hoped that maybe one day he might be comfortable enough around her to tell her about it all. She knew it wouldn’t solve his issues, but he didn’t deserve to carry it alone for the rest of his life. He deserved so much more than that. It killed her to know how much pain he must be in. 

She heard the kettle ding, drawing her out of her thoughts. She pulled herself down off the countertop slowly, reaching into the cupboard to find her favourite mug. her hand brushed again the raccoon mug, making her smile. The feeling of him was still faint in the air.

After making her cup of tea, she took a few timid sips before setting the mug down and starting to tidy the living room. The music changed, becoming more upbeat and energetic as she started to fix the cushions and blankets on the couch. 

She turned the music up a little with the remote in her pocket as she picked up a few lose socks that managed to sneak their way out of the bathroom hamper. She found herself swaying slightly to the song as she paced around the room, cleaning as she went. 

Once she was done, she finally went over to complete her least favourite task, the dishes. She took a few more sips of her drink while the sink filled up, leaning back against the counter. 

She felt her limbs turn cold, breath catching in her throat as she heard the opening bars play from the speaker. She immediately wanted to slap herself, angry that she hadn’t deleted this song for the playlist months ago when she should have.

“I am sailin-”

She reached quickly into her pockets, instinctively finding the skip button. The memories of that song were still too raw to handle. 

She stopped on one of her favorites, feeling her breathing start to return to normal. She turned back to the sink, turning off the water. She reached into the soapy water, singing along with the music as it filled the air around her. 

“Her fight and fury is fiery  
Oh but she loves  
Like sleep to the freezing  
Sweet and right and merciful  
I'm all but washed  
In the tide of her breathing.

And it's worth it, it's divine  
I have this some of the time.

The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine  
Open hand or closed fist would be fine  
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine”

She was so wrapped in the music that she didn’t even hear Bucky land on her fire escape. He stood there for a moment before he realised she hadn’t noticed his arrival. Deciding to savour the moment, he sat on the window ledge, watching and listening. Studying.

She wasn’t a singer by any stretch of the word, but seeing her, so content and calm and hearing her voice like that, it was incredible. It was like he could see the words floating above her, dissipating into the warm summer air. 

The vision in front of him made him think back to his childhood. He remembers sitting in the kitchen with his mother while she stood in front of the sink, listening to the crackling melody echoing out from the record player in the corner. 

He remembers a man, it must have been his father, walking up behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. They swayed together as the song faded out into another. He remembers how in love his parents were, how happy they seemed together.

He selfishly put himself into that place and for a moment, just a quick fleeting moment, he pictured a life with her. He pictured wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the smell of her skin. He pictured their son sitting at the kitchen table behind them. 

He pictured a life where he didn’t hurt anyone. A life where he never did. 

He shook himself from his daydream, cursing at himself. He didn’t deserve a life with her. Not like that. 

Once the song was over, he stood from his seat on the window, taking a deep, calming breath. 

“That’s a beautiful song”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runaway - Matt Corby  
Cherry Wine - Hozier


	19. You Killed Her, Remember?

“Fuck, mate! You really need to stop doing that” She said, almost jumping out of her skin. She turned around eyebrows raised at him in shock. For a second he thought she might actually be angry with him. 

“I’m sorry Tara I didn’t mean to scare you” He said, concerned. She smiled widely at him and the apprehension he had melted away. She turned, grabbing the towel sitting next to the sink and drying her hands. 

“You’re lucky I like you otherwise you’d be straight back out that window” She said. She could feel the heat burning on her cheeks as she realised what she had just said. He tried to ignore it, telling himself she didn’t mean it like that, but he couldn’t overlook it.

“Oh. So, you like me, do you?” He said, smirking at her, trying to downplay how fast his heart was beating. She blushed further and immediately starting speaking, stumbling over her words a little, failing to come across as casual. 

“Well, I definitely don’t hate you. Not yet at least” She said, glaring at him playfully. 

“I’ll just have to be on my best behavior I guess” He said, raising his hands in defense. She rolled her eyes and turned around, throwing the towel back on the countertop and emptying the sink. 

“Have you had lunch yet? I’m happy to make something for you or we can go get some takeaway?” She said. He felt his hands clench instinctively, his chest tightening. He had managed so far to limit his exposure during the day time to the bare minimum. 

When he did have to go outside to get supplies, he was fast, determined. He got in and out. No one saw him, no one got hurt. 

His head was screaming, his training begging him to say no, to find any excuse possible. He knew it would end in complete disaster. When someone recognised him, it was all over. His apartment, his job, her. It would all be gone. 

His mind flashed back to the nightmare from the previous evening. It had felt so real. His eyes lingered on her throat, making him wince at the memory of her soft skin underneath his cold, rough hands. 

If something happened while they were out in public, he didn’t trust himself to protect her. He couldn’t be sure that the right words in the right sequence wouldn’t lead to him choking the life out of her. He knew how easy it would be to kill her and it made him want to throw up. 

As terrified as he was, he looked at her in her deep blue eyes and the words left his mouth before he the voice in the back of his head could stop him.

“Takeaway sounds perfect” He choked out. He smiled at her, but she could see it wasn’t genuine. By the way he was tensing his fists, it was clear he was nervous about going out in public. She gave him a sympathetic smile, hoping to calm his clearly fried nerves. 

“We can be quick. Let’s just run down and get something to eat back here. Trust me, you’ll want to start these movies early. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover” She said, taking a small step towards him as she spoke. She hoped he could understand what she was really trying to say. 

It’s okay Buck. No one will notice you. It’ll be okay. I know you won’t hurt me. 

She walked back into her bedroom to grab her wallet and something warm to throw on over her thin t-shirt. As she reached for the cardigan hanging on the rack, she realised just how easy it was to see the scars on her wrists and forearms. 

She felt like an idiot, completely forgetting to cover them up before he got her. She quickly pulled on the outwear and tried to keep her breathing steady. This wasn’t the time to panic. 

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did he see it? Relax Tara. If he saw them, he hasn’t mentioned it. Maybe he never will and that’ll be fine. We could deal with that. Just calm down. 

She walked back out to meet him where he waited by the door, leaning against the wall, trying to seem relaxed. He gave her a weak smile but she could feel the nerves coming off him, thick and heavy between them. 

He looked up at her and she watched as his eyes glanced over her body momentarily before quickly whipping back up to meet her gaze. It felt like he was checking to make sure she was alright, making sure she was in one piece. That worried her. 

Bucky felt his heart rate relax a little when he saw her again. The few moments she was gone from the room felt like an eternity trapped in his own panic. He didn’t mean to stare at her the way he did, but he was so lost in his own mind he had started to believe that maybe he had hurt her already. That maybe she never existed in the first place. 

You killed her, remember? 

She tried to give him the most encouraging smile she could muster before she quickly pulled on her boots and closed the door behind them.


	20. Frantic

The wind outside was beginning to pick up as they stepped out onto the street. It was the middle of August and it seemed like Autumn was making an early appearance. The stood in front of her apartment building for a moment, watching the passersby head towards the coast. 

“So, what do you feel like?” She asked gently, realising they hadn’t decided on what to eat yet. She waited on baited breath for Bucky to reply but he was too stuck in his own head. 

He was looking everywhere, all over the street. Every car that went by, every bike, every person on the footpath was Hydra to him. She could see the panic getting worse by the second, so she tried to get his attention again. She took a small step closer to him, looking right into his frantic eyes. 

“Hey, Buck? It’s okay. If you want to go back inside then let’s go. You’re going to be okay. I promise” She said softly. She tried to give him an empathetic smile, feeling relieved when he finally made eye contact with her. 

“No. I’m okay, really. I’m happy to eat wherever you want Tara” He said, taking a few deep breaths before he could make the words come out. He gave her a fake smile but his eyes were still filled with fear.

“Okay. I think I know the perfect place” She said smiling to herself. She turned on her heels and started walking towards the beach as confidently as she could muster. If he was stuck in his head, the least she could do would be to take the lead. One less thing for him to worry about. 

He followed close by as he could while still keeping a safe distance between them. He was scared of being too close and too far away all at the same time. Her warmth kept him tethered as they weaved through the Saturday crowds that filled the streets. 

She stayed silent during their walk and he couldn’t have been more grateful. He didn’t think he could concentrate on conversation right now, not with the hot panic that was filling his chest, burning his throat. He just kept his eyes on her and pushed himself forward, willing his legs to keep going. 

After a few minutes, they reached the boardwalk that ran right along the beach. It was filled with people at this time of day. Families enjoying the last of the summertime, teenagers cycling and rollerblading along the creaking hardwood, couples kissing on the sand. Tara cursed herself internally for picking a restaurant in such a busy place. 

Good one dickhead. Bring the worlds most wanted assassin to what might be the busiest place in western Europe, she told herself. 

Just before they reached the restaurant, the crowd got particularly dense. Tara, without thinking, reached back and grabbed Bucky by his wrist, pulling him towards the front door of the American burger place she had chosen. 

He felt his nerve-endings go into shock, but he didn’t pull away. The feeling of her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist distracted him. It helped pull his head above water for a moment, just enough to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had ever held him so carefully. He didn’t know if anyone ever had. 

After they had successfully made it inside, she slowly let go of his wrist. She didn’t want to, not even in the slightest, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. She knew that none of the touch he would have felt in the past seventy years was kind to him. 

Luckily, it was pretty quiet inside the restaurant, giving Bucky a second to take in what was in front of him. He felt like he had stepped back in time. Somehow here, in this small Dutch seaside town, there was an American diner. Sure, it wasn’t a very accurate representation, but it was close. It was the closest thing to home he had found in a very long time. 

“Woah” He said quietly, the words whispering out from his lips. He felt a small smile start to form, looking over to Tara standing next to him and seeing her huge grin as she took in the restaurant around them. 

“I thought it might be nice to go somewhere familiar. Well, as familiar as you can get in the south of Holland” She said through a laugh. He was really smiling now, his eyes finally looking into hers. 

She could still sense the panic, but it was subsiding. 

The tide was changing. The waves retreating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short and shitty filler chapter y'all these early ones I wrote really weren't great so apologies


	21. Lighthouse

Bucky felt like he could finally breathe again once they stepped back into her apartment. He still didn’t feel safe when they walked in the front door of the building. Even the infinite seconds they spent at her front door while she fumbled with the keys felt like his last moments. 

Now however, taking his shoes and jacket off and embracing the warmth and comfort of this woman’s home, he felt safe. He felt like no one could hurt them here. 

No one saw me. No one got hurt, he told himself. 

“Tea?” Tara asked as she kicked off her boots and walked over to the fridge, pulling out some cold water for herself. 

“Yes please, if you don’t mind” He replied. He stood awkwardly near the kitchen island and watched her as she grabbed his mug from the shelf and started preparing his drink. 

While the water boiled, she came and leaned on the bench next to him. Being this close to him made her a little nervous, but she wanted him to know she was serious. He needed to know she cared. 

“Are you okay?” She asked gently. She looked into his eyes and he felt his anxiety melt away. He trusted her. He knew he shouldn’t, but she made it easy. 

He nodded in silent agreement and he was thankful that she seemed to accept that as an answer. She didn’t press any further. She knew it wasn’t any of her business. The kettle clicked off and she walked over to finish making his drink. 

“Can you take the food over to the couch? Let’s get this movie marathon going!” She said, voice full of excitement. He breathed out a laugh, walking over and taking his place on the lounge as Tara walked over with drinks in hand. 

He watched her intently as she navigated her way to the right movie. He was mesmerized by it all. The way the corner of her eyes crinkled up as she smiled, the endearing way she tucked her feet up on the couch, the way the blue of her eyes sparkled in the midday light of the apartment. 

She found the right file and pressed play before throwing down the remote and getting comfortable, squishing herself back against the cushion till he found the right spot, letting out a little content sigh. It made Bucky giggle, smiling to himself as he turned to the screen. 

Episode V  
The Empire Strikes Back

“It is a dark time for the Rebellion.  
Although the Death Star has been destroyed,  
Imperial troops have driven the Rebel forces from their hidden  
base and pursued them across the galaxy.  
Evading the dreaded Imperial Starfleet, a group of freedom  
fighters led by Luke Skywalker has established a new secret  
base on the remote ice world of Hoth.

The evil lord Darth Vader, obsessed with finding young  
Skywalker, has dispatched thousands of remote probes into  
the far reaches of space....”

\--

It was nearly three pm by the time the film came to an end. Tara stood up, stretching and cracking her back. The sound was only just audible to her, but to him it was clear as day. The echoes of bones aching and cracking made his hands feel damp with the blood he couldn’t wash off anymore. 

“So? What did you think?” Tara asked, turning to look at him expectantly, eyes wide with suspense. She was still standing up, twisting her arms above her head, stretching out her shoulders. 

“It wasn’t as good as the first one, but I still enjoyed it. That bounty hunter seemed easy enough to kill so I don’t understand why he was so feared. He’s just a regular dude in some armor” He said unimpressed. He continued. 

“He had pretty poor form and his gun skills were pretty average too. The way he used that blaster was sloppy at best. No one in that universe knows how to handle a weapon. Except maybe Darth Vader. Honestly, I’m surprised that bounty hunter had made it this far” He said, leaning forward and grabbing his drink. He looked over to Tara who had paused mid-stretch. She stared at Bucky with wide eyes and shock on her face. It made him nervous. 

Oh no, what did I do wrong? Was it something I said? I should just be quiet. Comply. Comply. Comply, he repeated to himself. 

“What?” He whispered, desperate to break the silence. She smiled at him, making his nervousness fade a little. 

“No. no I’m sorry. It’s just, I haven’t heard you speak that much in the two weeks I’ve known you” She continued. 

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this before but you have a really calming voice. I could listen to you talk for hours” She said, grabbing the empty cups from the table and walking towards the kitchen, placing them on the counter before turning back to look at him.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He tried to think of the appropriate response but he couldn’t get her words out of his head. In all the years he can remember, no one has ever complimented him like that. All he could muster was a smile, genuine and sincere and dancing on his lips. 

“Well, ready for the next one?” She asked while she started making him another cup of tea. She was happy he couldn’t see the look of embarrassment on her face. If she didn’t feel his eyes on her, she would have slapped herself. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be” He said, settling back against the cushions. 

Once she finished up their drinks, she got resituated on the couch and Bucky noticed she sat just a little bit closer to him. It made him sit up a little straighter, but he wasn’t complaining. He could smell her apple scented shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was magic.

His eyes lingered on her as she reached for her drink on the coffee table, sleeve of her cardigan riding up as she did so. That was when he spotted the splattering of scars across her wrist. 

Mostly thin and fading, except for one. One substantial, determined wound that stood out on her wrist like a lighthouse against the pitch black of the ocean. 

All he could do was look away. He hoped that when he looked back it would disappear. That is was never there to begin with. But he couldn’t bring himself to look again. He knew his luck was never on his side. 

He hated to admit it, but for the first time in his very long life, he wished he could wipe an image from his mind. 

Episode VI  
Return of the Jedi

Luke Skywalker has returned to his home planet of Tatooine in  
an attempt to rescue his friend Han Solo from the  
clutches of the vile gangster Jabba the Hutt.

Little does Luke know that the GALACTIC EMPIRE has secretly  
begun construction on a new armoured space station even  
more powerful than the first dreaded Death Star.

When completed, this ultimate weapon will spell  
certain doom for the small band of rebels  
struggling to restore freedom to the galaxy...


	22. Drowning

Tara woke up on Sunday morning with a splitting headache and the feeling of disgust washing over her entire body. Her stomach was in knots, turning and spinning with an anxiety she hadn’t felt in so long she had almost forgotten what it tasted like. She laid there for a while with her eyes closed, letting the fog in her head fade away. 

She begrudgingly opened her eyes, squinting as the morning sun lit up her room like a Christmas tree. The brightness made the knife in her skull twist and slice further, carving out a new wound. She wasn’t hungover and she wasn’t sick. This is just how she always felt after crying herself to sleep. 

She slowly sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and planting her feet on the cold hardwood floor. Gently standing up to avoid losing whatever she had in her stomach, she walked sluggishly across the apartment to the bathroom. 

She knew the usual routine when she was feeling like this. She had perfected it down to a fine art after all these years, committed it to muscle memory. It was the only method she had to make herself feel human again.

Shower. Fresh clothes. Cup of tea. Hamish and Andy reruns. 

She stripped out of her pj’s and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water wash off all memories of the night before. 

She knew she was over-reacting and that spending the entire night overthinking it didn’t do her any favours. She desperately wanted to not feel this, like she had ruined everything. Before that something had a chance to become anything. 

She tried to wash away his face from her mind but she couldn’t do it. Instead she stood there, scrubbing and scrubbing the skin on her forearms until it stung. Scrubbing until she almost drew blood, until the scars on her wrists almost opened up again. 

As hard as she tried, it didn’t change anything. She stepped out of the shower and the air still felt too heavy. 

\--

She had noticed something was wrong after the second movie had finished. She had asked him, excitedly, what he had thought but all he could give her was a short affirmation and a tiny smile. 

He stood up abruptly, whispered some small excuse about getting any early night and he was gone. He was so quick out that window that she barely had a chance to say goodbye.

She remembers standing there for a while trying to piece together the events of the day, dreadfully searching for where she had gone wrong.

Did I insult him? Did I do something wrong? Does he hate me? Why do I have to ruin everything I touch?

The rest of the night was a blur. She remembers slamming the window closed in anger, not at him but at herself. How could she be so stupid as to think he might want to spend time together. That he might actually like her? Even on a level so basic as a neighbour? 

Before she realised, she was sitting on the bathroom floor, razor blade twirling in her fingers, staring at it intently through tear filled eyes. She sat there for what felt like hours, the image of him struggling to look her in the eyes, replaying in her mind. 

She remembers crawling into bed, screaming into the pillow till her head felt light and her lungs burned. She fell asleep eventually, exhaustion overcoming her. 

She remembers dreaming of ocean blue eyes swallowing her whole. She remembers the smell of blood and gunpowder. 

\--

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down again. She wasn’t ready to cry again, not while she still felt this completely drained. She didn’t have any more tears left. 

She turned off the water and dried herself quickly, trying to escape the cold air that hung in the room. She didn’t look down as she patted the towel over her arms and thighs. 

She ran her tongue over her teeth, tasting the faint sweetness of white wine and remember how she must have opened a bottle at some sad point last night. She quickly brushed her teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. 

She opened the medicine cabinet, pushing around bottles until she found the right one. She hated taking pills, but at this point, she’d take anything to stop the pain in her head. She threw the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down in a fistful of water. 

She paused for a moment, looking at herself in the foggy, steam covered mirror. She scanned her face, her tired look in her eyes, the way her skin was starting to crinkle on her forehead, the fat around her neck. She felt her stomach start to lurch, making her push away from the mirror and towards the door. 

Wrapping the towel around her tightly, she stepped out of the bathroom and walked back to her bedroom. She looked out the window as she passed by and remembered she had closed the curtains the night before, something she rarely ever did. Thank you, past Tara. 

After wrapping her hair in the towel and throwing on the comfiest shirt she owned, she walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She paused when she saw his mug sitting in the sink. 

Nope. We aren’t crying again Tara. You’ve known this kid for two weeks. If he doesn’t like you then so what? You are a grown woman. Get over it, she scolded herself. 

She nodded slightly to her own internal dialogue and washed his mug, hiding it in the back of the cupboard out of view. Out of sight, out of mind. 

After fixing her drink, she walked over and sat down in her usual spot on the couch. She took at timid sip from the steaming mug and let the heat warm her chest. She hoped this would fix it all. She knew it was naïve thinking, but she didn’t have any better ideas. 

She scrolled through the options on TV before deciding on the funniest Hamish and Andy episode she could remember. She zoned out as the show started playing, upbeat opening music blaring across the apartment, practically slapping her in the face. 

This show always reminded her of home, of spending rainy Sundays in bed having movie marathons with her sister. Sneaking out to the kitchen to raid the fridge. Staying up all hours, laughing about nothing. Of all the childhood memories that she had repressed over the years, she was glad the times spent with her sister made it out intact. 

Joke after joke played out on the screen and Tara forced herself to giggle and smile along with them. She knew if she didn’t at least try and distract herself, she’d fall into a mindset she wasn’t sure she could be dragged out of, not again, not so soon since the last time. She knew that place all too well. 

She remembered it felt like being held down with arms made of steel, strong and heavy   
against her chest, pushing out all the air she so desperately tried to suck into her lungs. 

Drowning. She remembers it felt like drowning.


	23. What Are You So Afraid Of?

Bucky had forgotten about this feeling. The dizziness, the headaches, the shakes, the spotty vision. This is what four days of no sleep does to him, counterfeit German super serum and all. 

In the few weeks he had known Tara, he hadn’t felt like this. He was feeling better. He thought maybe he was finally becoming better. That maybe this wasn’t just some fleeting feeling or some twist of coincidence. 

He blinked, feeling the familiar sting of his sore eyes. He had been staring at his hands as they rested against his knees for what felt like hours. Watching the way his fingers clenched tight before slowly unfolding back into their shape. Like a flower in bloom. 

He had forgotten he was doing it by now. He wasn’t completely sure whether or not he had fallen asleep half way through. He could feel the lingering of sleeps menacing breath on his neck. 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands. He hated this feeling. The way the anxiety in his stomach made him want to be sick, the stabbing pain in the back of his head, like someone was cutting a new hole in his skull. 

As much as he wanted to fall asleep, he couldn’t. It felt like his nerve ending were being zapped with the frayed end of an electrical cable. His body wouldn’t let him rest. Or at least he didn’t think he could. 

There had been times in the past where he would go a week without sleep. But now, looking back on those times, he knew he must have slept a little, even without realising it. As much as he wished against it, his body had its ways of preserving itself. 

He knew what was making him feel like this, but he was too scared to admit it. He knew if he let his mind rest, the nightmares would come flooding in. That was something he wasn’t ready to face right now. 

As angry as he was, at himself, at Tara, at no one in particular, he was thankful for his job. The distraction had been exactly what he needed. It got him out of his apartment and away from the suffocating closeness. 

When he was at work, he could forget that she was right there. He could forget that at any second he could lose control. As mundane and repetitive as it was, he could just let go and give himself to his work. He could pretend she didn’t exist, even if only for a while. 

As thankful as he was to walk away, it was the coming home part that made him most anxious. The closer he got to the building, the more his mind screamed at him to turn away and run. To keep running until his legs gave out underneath him. He wanted to run until she was safe again. 

He took the fire escape slowly, stepping as lightly as possible to blend into the silence around him. He knew she could still be awake and that she’s heard him on the fire escape before. Any second she could open that window and see him and it would be over. 

Once he had successfully closed his window, he let out the heavy breath he was holding in, almost collapsing against the wall behind him. 

What’s going on Buck?

What are you so afraid of?

\--

It took him five long, sleep deprived days to finally face his own thoughts. If he didn’t come to terms with it soon and let himself get some rest, he was going to lose whatever fragments of his mind he had left. 

The truth is, seeing the scars on her wrists made him furious. He didn’t know if he was angry at her or the person who caused them. 

He knew how it felt to want to cut off a piece of yourself like a cancer. The feeling of wanting the pain to end, permanently, wasn’t at all foreign to him. 

The numbness, the agony, the heavy fog behind the eyes. He knew it all. She didn’t deserve to feel like that. That’s what was eating him up inside.

The idea of her upset and angry and alone. He felt a sense of guilt that he couldn’t explain, like this was his fault. That he should have stopped her somehow. He wished he had met her earlier. In another world, in another time. 

He stood up from the couch and started pacing. He could feel the anger bubbling up in himself but he didn’t try to push it down. He wanted to feel this. 

Someone has made her do this to herself. Someone has made her feel so worthless that she’s done that … that she’s tried to…

He strode forward and punched the wall, the sound of his metal fist cracking the plasterboard awfully loud against the stark silence of his apartment. 

I know what I’m afraid of. It’s this. Its living with the knowledge that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t change anything, he told himself. 

I’ll always be too late.


	24. Shadows

It was nearly midnight when Tara checked the time on her phone, the clock reading eleven fifty seven. The last moments of Friday were finishing up before Saturday had its turn on stage. 

She had been trying pointlessly to fall asleep for the past two hours, tossing and turning to no avail. She really thought after the draining week she had just experienced she would have been fast-asleep hours ago. 

With Autumn about to start, the roomsets at her work all needed a refresh to reflect the change of the season. All week she had been building furniture, painting walls, decorating props. She could still feel the layer of dirt and dust and paint stuck to her skin even after two lengthy showers. 

Between everything going on (or not going on) with Bucky and her intense workload, it felt like she hadn’t stopped all week. She was exhausted, mentally and psychically. 

She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, pulling her eyes away from the television across the room and letting her mind wander to the strange conversation she had that afternoon with Finn as they left the office together.

\-- 

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all day! How’s the kitchens rebuild going?” Tara asked as gleefully as she could manage at three pm on a Friday afternoon. She knew it had been a tough week for the entire team, but she was a little thrown off by his demeanour. 

“Fine” He said sharply. It wasn’t so much the shortness of his answer that surprised her, but the look on his face. He looked at her like she had just taken something from him that he needed, something that was his. 

“That bad was it?” She asked sympathetically. She tried to give him a smile but it just came out as a nervous twitch of the lips. He shook his head a little, looking down at his shoes before turned on his heel and meeting her eyes again. 

“I’ve got to go Tara. You’re probably late for a date with your boyfriend anyway, right?” He said intense, his dark eyes holding her gaze. He let the statement hang in the air for a second before he turned and stormed off down the stairs to the underground carpark. 

“He’s not my …” She trailed off. She didn’t bother finishing her sentence, he was already out of earshot. 

She could have sworn she saw him smirking a little when she stood there, mouth a little a gap from the shock, eyes wide like a dear in the headlights. 

As she stepped into the elevator, she leaned against the wall and rested her head back against the cold metal. She closed her eyes and began playing back the previous week, trying to pinpoint the moment she must had offended Finn. 

When she was through the front door, she realised she had come up empty on reasons for his standoffish attitude. Just one more unresolved question. 

Great. This is just fucking great.

\-- 

She rolled over to check her phone again, the little numbers on the too bright screen displaying one twenty am. Another hour and a half had passed and she was still lying awake in bed, sullen eyes glossing over the stand-up comedy special on the screen. 

She looked around the room, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling as the grey glow of the TV sprayed out over everything. 

She watched the light sway around the room for what felt like hours before turning her attention back to the show in front of her, idly laughing at the jokes if only to keep herself from breaking down completely. 

Finally, around the two thirty am mark, she could feel sleep about the finally take over. Just as her eyes started to feel heavy and the weight of the week seemed to fade, she heard a huge crash coming from downstairs, followed by a low boom and the TV abruptly going black. 

The room was thrown into pitch black darkness with only a sliver of moonlight escaping through the thick curtains lining the bedroom window. 

She felt her stomach drop and her limbs go numb. The hair on her arms raised up in anticipation. As quiet as it was right now, the sound of all technology shutting down felt too loud to handle. 

She knew it was a stupid fear to have as a twenty-five-year-old, but Tara was petrified of the dark. Ever since childhood, she had a fear of what was waiting for her in the dark corners of her room, and its followed her ever since, even to this quiet little speck of the world. 

Once the initial shock had faded a little, she fumbled for her phone amongst the blankets. The cold glow lit up her face as she read the time on the screen, two forty-five am. 

She reached for the lamp on the side table next to her, flicking the switch frantically and getting nothing in return. She breathed out an annoyed sigh. 

Its official. Her nightmare has come to fruition. The powers gone out. 

I wish Bucky was here, she told herself before grabbing the thought with her bare hands and practically throwing it across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for another short chapter :( I really struggle with big chapters I'm so sorry y'all


	25. Constellations

Five minutes of laying in the pitch-black darkness was all it took for Tara to give up on sleep. She grabbed her phone, flipping on the torch and scanning the room cautiously, eyes scanning over every inch in view. After deciding it was safe enough, she threw the blanket off and gingerly placed her feet on the ground. 

She found some rouge socks on the ground and threw on a jumper before walking out into the living room. She shone the touch around the entire apartment, checking the bathroom as well for any murderers that decided this was the prime moment to strike. 

She knew sleep wasn’t going to come to her anytime soon, so she decided to make herself a cup of tea. She placed her phone down on the counter nearby, torch side up, before reaching into the cabinet to look for her favourite mug. 

Just as she was about to close the door, flamingo cup in hand, she spotted the familiar teacup hiding in the back corner. The image of the blue-eyed boy, sitting so delicately on the fire escape in the afternoon sun flashed across her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. 

This isn’t the time to fall into that hole Tara, she told herself as she picked up her mug and phone, deciding maybe some fresh air will help her relax. 

She slowly opened the curtains, a little anxious for what she might see in the window across from her. She knew realistically that at this time of night he would either be asleep or at work, if he was even still in the Netherlands anymore. 

As much as she wanted to see him again, she was scared. Deep down, she didn’t want to know the truth about his sudden disappearance. She wasn’t naïve to the fact that this was something that was going to happen, sooner or later. Bucky was never going to be a permanent fixture in the neighborhood, but she never thought she’d be the reason he would run so soon. She only hoped he was safe, wherever he was. 

Luckily, the night air wasn’t as crisp as she was expecting, the air just cool enough to feel comfortable. Placing her phone and mug on the little table outside, she sat down on the window sill with an exhausted thud. She let her eyes wander to the window across from her, seeing nothing but dark curtains. She let out a deep, disappointed sigh. 

Trying to distract herself from the bad thoughts that had started to creep into her mind, she looked up into the night sky. The stars were bright and sparkly, making it seem like a moving sea of diamonds, all glimmering at once. She picked up her cup, taking a long sip and feeling the heat travel down her throat, settling in her stomach. 

She leaned against the wall next to her and let her mind drift through the constellations dancing above her.

\--

Three am rolled around, bringing with it the end of Bucky’s shift. He had managed to finish all his tasks for the night faster than usual and was sent home early. He gave his coworkers a few short nods as he made his was off the packing floor to the locker rooms to grab his backpack. 

He was halfway to the back exit when he ran into Chris, the only person apart from Tara he had seemed to say more than two words to in all of Hoek van Holland. 

“You on your way home James?” He said with the biggest smile he had seen on anyone at three am. Chris always managed to be incurably positive, not matter how early in the morning it was or how much work there was to do. 

“Yeah. All finished” He said with a polite grin. He liked Chris, but he still didn’t trust him. Trust means weakness. Weakness can get you killed. 

“Gotta get back to that girlfriend of yours, hey?” He said, giving Bucky a sly smirk, his voice laced with mockery. 

“Yeah very funny. You always find a way to make me regret telling you anything Chris” Bucky said with a false anger in his tone. He started to walk past Chris towards the door. 

“It’s worth it to see the look on your face” Chris said. Bucky shot him a look over his shoulder, seeing him smiling widely at him. He gave Chris a small nod and a mumbled goodbye before walking out the door into the cool night air. 

He spent the short walk home looking out from under his baseball cap, scanning the streets around him for threats, for movements in the shadows. He did this almost every night, usually after the nightmares had come in too heavy for sleep to be a possibly again that night. 

He would walk for hours, checking every street, forming a perimeter in his mind. It was the only way he could find some rest. 

The only nights he didn’t have to do this was after he spent time with her. Something about being around her let him sleep better, rest better. He could breathe easier around her. 

As her reached the bottom of the fire escape, he looked up and saw two feet on her landing. He was suddenly overwhelmed with this urge to protect her that he hadn’t quiet felt before. 

He started to climb the stairs as silently as possible, training well and truly kicking in. He felt the air around him go still and silent. All he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears, beating at a steading, practiced rhythm. As he got closer to the top, he caught a glimpse of their face, making him stop in his tracks. 

He knew he shouldn’t say anything, he should just nod a quick ‘hello’ and go inside. He didn’t trust himself to ignore her now that she was right in front of him. 

Now, seeing her eyes shining in the moonlight as she watched the stars above her, flamingo mug clutched in her small, pale hands, he knew he couldn’t avoid her any longer. He had dwelled in his own resentment long enough. 

Just like that, he was sucked right back in to the storm.

“We need to stop meeting like this”


	26. Harmless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a short filler chapter - one double the size coming tomorrow hopefully xxx
> 
> (also side note, I'm about to start writing chapter 49 of this fuckfest which is super exciting for me! I've got 4 other chapters already written that will be added when the timelines match up but I'm v proud of myself for sticking with this and making it this far. I honestly never expected to get past 10 chapters and here I am with over 50 in total!!!)

She didn’t know whether it was the lack of sleep or her fear of the dark but it took her a while to realise Bucky was actually standing there. For a moment, she thought he was some nightmare, someone crawling out of the dark, but no, he was right there across from her. Close enough to touch. 

She stared at him in silence for a moment longer and he shifted on his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets awkwardly. She wondered for a second if maybe, just maybe, she made him nervous.

“I didn’t think it was possible to be so silent. Not your first time sneaking up on someone I assume?” She said, regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She felt like slapping herself in the forehead for being so insensitive. 

Of course, he had, she thought. He had spent the better part of one hundred years in silence, terrified that a breath too loud would be his last. He was trained to track down, to kill, to be silent and unseen. After all these years, that training doesn’t go away. It becomes a part of you, a part of your skin and bones and blood and tissue. 

Tara squirmed a little in her seat, making herself uncomfortable with her own thoughtlessness. He seemed to brush it off easily enough, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that the words struck a chord. 

“I don’t want to wake anyone up I guess, so I use the fire escape” He said softly, shifting on his feet again slightly. 

They looked at each other in silence, with just the gentle hum of the wind echoing between them. Seeing him again, after what felt like years apart, made her heart beat faster than she thought possible. It seemed like it was about to beat out of her chest, the fast-paced rhythm screaming in her ears. 

Bucky looked at her, feeling this overwhelming rush of calm at her presence. The voices in his head fell from a screaming match to a gentle discussion, the words becoming quieter and quieter the longer he looked into her gaze. 

“Just finished work I’m guessing?” She asked, wanting to break the silence between them. She just wanted to hear his voice. He nodded in affirmation before continuing. 

“The more important question is why are you sitting out here, in the dark, alone, at three-thirty in the morning?” He asked, leaning back against the wall of his apartment. His look was stern like a protective friend, and concerned like a good mother. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I promise” He said sincerely. The look in his eyes told her that he was a man of his word. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes before continuing. 

“The power in my building went out and I’m terrified of the dark and of course I couldn’t fall asleep so I came out here” She said with an embarrassed, flat lipped smile.   
“Now, why would I laugh at that?” He said with a smirk. It was endearing, knowing she was afraid of something so harmless. Everything about her was harmless, he thought to himself. She giggled a little, mostly at herself, and looked down at her hands, picking at her nails nervously. 

He could see the pain in her eyes, in her shoulders, in her legs, seeping through every part of her body. He could tell there was more to this than a simple fear of the dark. He couldn’t let himself say goodbye just yet, if only to leave her alone to wallow in her own personal nightmare. His mother raised him better than that. 

An idea popped into his head, the words blurting out of his mouth before he could second guess it. 

“Well, I won’t be able to sleep tonight either. Maybe we could go for a walk?” He asked. Her head shot up excitedly, smile wide and genuine, teeth gleaming white against the shadows of the moon. 

“Yeah, I would love that. I’ll just get changed okay? Don’t move” He nodded quickly and smiled. She stepped back into the apartment and walked towards her bedroom. His training was getting louder again, the voices telling him to run, to jump down to the sidewalk and disappear, for good this time. 

He forced his feet to stay in place, replaying her words over and over again in his head, her voice keeping him grounded. 

‘don’t move, don’t move, don’t move’

“Okay. Ready to go?” She said excitedly as she stepped back onto the landing, now wearing jeans, boots and a warm sweater. 

He took the opportunity to look at her, to really look at her. The redness in her eyes, the tired lines on her face, all of it somehow still the most beautiful thing he had even seen.


	27. Please Don't Do That Again

Once they were both safely on solid ground, they headed off towards the coastline. Bucky kept cautious of their close proximity, keeping a few steps away. Close enough to still be able to reach out for her if something went wrong. 

The streets were empty as they walked, only a few cars visible in the distance. The creaks of signposts against the wind and their footsteps on the concrete the only sounds filling the otherwise silent night air. 

There was so much to say, so many questions to ask. Tara wanted to say how sorry she was, how much she had missed his presence. She just wanted to make sure he was okay. 

Bucky was terrified to ask about the scars. It was all he had been able to think about. He wondered if there were anymore, if they covered her entire body. He pictured her stomach, her chest, her inner thighs, her lower back. The mental image made his hands clench into fists and he shoved them into his jacket pockets before she had a chance to notice them. 

“So, why Hoek van Holland?” Tara asked, breaking the silence as they cleared the first block. She looked at him and he shot her back a confused look, not fully understanding the line of questioning. 

“I just mean, of all the places in the world you could be, why here?” She clarified. He looked off into the distance, mulling over her words. He could feel her eyes on him, patiently waiting. 

“I don’t know. It seemed like as good a place as any. I just needed to go somewhere new, somewhere to be alone” He said, dropping his head and watching his boots as he walked. He avoided eye contact, knowing if he looked into those eyes right now he could break. 

“What about you? Why did you choose this glorious pocket of the world?” He asked sarcastically, laughing dryly under his breath. 

“My mother moved here a few years ago after my parents split up. I guess she felt like there wasn’t much left for her there so she decided to move” She said, voice becoming more strained as she continued. 

“At the beginning of the year I moved over to be closer to her. I didn’t have much going for me back home so I thought why not” She said, keeping her eyes forward as they crossed the street. 

The way she spoke, the heartbreak in her voice as she told him this story, it was clear there was more that she wasn’t saying. 

“Does she still live here?” He asked carefully, wary of opening any wounds. She looked at him with watery eyes, her steps slowing down to a stop on the corner of the street. 

He had clearly hit a nerve. This is exactly what he was afraid of. He had been trying to desperately to not hurt this girl, but here they were, walking in the middle of the night, tears in her eyes as she spoke the words she had barely said out loud before now. 

“No, she passed away two months ago” She choked out, voice on the verge of crumbling. 

He didn’t know how to react. All of his years in the army, the years of torture, the punishment and the grueling training made the idea of death meaningless to him. But now, seeing her standing there, so pained and weak, he felt every bit of pain and heartbreak he had been forced to hold back for 70 years. 

She could see the emotions rushing around behind his eyes. He was clearly trying to find the right words. She stopped him, taking a small step forward to restart their journey towards the beach. 

“It’s okay Buck. You don’t need to say anything” She said, looking back at him where he had stopped. He simply nodded, seeming relieved. When she turned around again, he took the opportunity to wipe away the tears starting to form. 

They walked in silence a little longer, clearing another block and seeing the boardwalk appear in the distance, only a few blocks away. 

“Why not leave?” He said suddenly, taking her by surprise. He wasn’t sure why he even asked. His mother always taught him to mind his own business. He hoped if she could see him now, she wasn’t too disappointed. 

She stayed quiet for a moment, trying to piece together her thoughts into something that made sense to even herself. 

“When I first moved, I told myself I’d stay for six months. Just six months and I’d go home. But six months has come and gone and I’m still here. I’ve tried to leave. I’ve been so close to booking my tickets home but I just can’t do it” She said. He watched her as she spoke, but she just looked ahead, keeping her eyes on the approaching ocean. 

“Why?” He asked quietly, voice almost being drowned out by the waves in the distance. She flashed him a quick look before looking straight ahead again. 

“Everything here reminds me of her. The flowers, the weather, the food, the smells. As true blue Australian as she was, deep down everything about her, her soul, her presence, all of it was this country” She continued. 

“After she died I just couldn’t bear the idea of not staying. When I’m here, it’s almost like she’s still alive. If I go home, then she really will be gone forever” She said slowly. Her voice was steady and calm but it was clear to Bucky how desperately she wanted to break down and disappear into the air like smoke. He tried to find the right words to say, but a gust of wind sucked it out of his lungs before he had a chance. 

They arrived at the boardwalk and sat down on a bench facing the water. The breeze was picking up, bringing the cold sea air with it. 

Tara scooted a little closer to Bucky, making him sit up a little straighter. He was thankful that he had strategically placed her on his right side, avoiding the possibility of her touching his metal arm. She was surprised with how warm he felt, basking in the heat his body was giving off, wanting to be closer to it. 

“What is your mother like?” Tara asked quietly. She was scared to push too deeply into his memories in case she hit the wrong button, but it felt like the right question to ask. He turned and looked at her. 

“She died a long time ago, but from what I can remember, she was amazing. She lived for my sister and I. She was an incredible cook, sewed our clothes, would listen to any stupid thing you had to say. She really loved us” He said wholeheartedly, smiling to himself as he watched the waves crash in the distance. 

“I’m so sorry, Buck” Tara said with tears forming in her eyes again. They looked at each other, faces so close he could feel her breath gently brushing against his lips. 

She looked so beautiful, the stars dancing in her eyes, the colour bright enough to rival any ocean. He nearly let himself give in and press his lips to hers but instead he gave her a tight-lipped smile, nodded and turned back to the sea.

She rested her head on his shoulder, making him tense up slightly before allowing himself to relax into it. Feeling the warmth of her cheek seep through all the layers and drip onto his skin made his whole body feel awake. The memories of winter and nightmares and Siberia and the red book were washed away and replaced with the smell of her shampoo, the shape of her waist. 

“You know what’s crazy, one day this entire country will be underwater. Nothing we see right now will exist anymore” She said. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she licked her lips and spoke softly, the words flowing out of her mouth like liquid.

He thought to himself; Good. He tainted everything he touched, every city he stepped in. Let the water wash away any trace that he ever existed here, that the Winter Soldier ever stood in a place like this. Erode away at the idea of someone like him ever having anything to do with someone so clean, so uncontaminated as her. 

\--

As they reached the top of their respective fire escapes, they both stared at each other for a moment, Tara taking in all the features of his face. She was riddled with the fear that this was it, that this was the last time she would ever see him. Dead or alive. 

She tried to commit the colour of his eyes, the way his hair moved in the breeze and the outline of his lips to memory. She could use every second she had left in this life to study him and it still wouldn’t be enough time, she thought. 

He could see the slight panic in her eyes and he knew what it was. He had left her before and she was scared he was going to do it again. He knew that. He felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach and pushed it down, hard. 

You can’t leave her again. You know you can’t. You’ve tried, and look at how that ended, he told himself. 

“Goodnight Tara” He said slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable. He tried to muster up a grin but the moment didn’t feel right. 

“Goodnight Buck” She said, giving him a weak smile. 

She was about the close the window behind her when she stopped, hand on the ledge. Her lungs burned as she pushed down the thump in her throat. If this was the last time she saw him, he needed to know how scared she was. He needed to know that she noticed him, that he meant something to her. 

He was nearly inside when she called out to him once again, this time loud and clear, voice ringing out over the white noise. 

“Buck, please don’t do that again”

She held his gaze, intense and resolute, before turning and disappearing inside. 

He stood there for a minute, trying to catch the words that she left out in the wind.


	28. Branded

After the events of the previous night, Tara awoke late into the day, the mid-morning rays of sun darting light across the ceiling. She laid there for a while, watching the way the cool Autumn breeze made the curtains billow and dance, like waves on the sea. 

She rolled over, grabbing her phone from the nightstand and checking the time. Ten twenty-eight am. 

As she stumbled out of bed, she flicked the light switch on and off, cheering internally upon seeing the bulb flicker to life. The electricians must have fixed the power outage sometime this morning. 

She was excited knowing she didn’t need to run out and buy more candles to sleep through the next night, but she was a little disappointed that she couldn’t use it as an excuse to try and see Bucky again. She knew though that he probably wouldn’t entertain her childish fear for another night. 

Stepping into the shower, she scrubbed off the thin layer of sea salt that clung to her skin from the night before. Licking her lips, she could taste the ocean. It reminded her of him. 

The way he looked, sitting so close to her under the light of the full moon. His eyes wide and cautious, hair swaying in the breeze, lips so close she could almost taste him. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against the cold tile, centering herself again. 

He would never want to kiss you, she scolded, feeling herself flinch. 

She dried off quickly, barely letting herself glance at the scars littering her body as she walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her waist. 

As she looked towards the window, she froze. Bucky was standing in almost an identical position as her. Towel wrapped around his waist, hair soaking wet, leaving droplets all over his chest. They shone in the sun beaming through his windows. 

Luckily for him, he was turned in a way that hide the metal arm almost completely. She caught a glimpse of the steel fingers as he moved his arm further back behind himself, hiding it. She knew it was there, she’d known all long. She wondered how long it would take for him to tell her about it. How long it would take from him to trust her. 

Tara gave him a genuine smile, lifting her hand up to give him a small wave. Even though she could feel his fear and shock from all the way over there, he still returned the gesture. She suddenly realised how exposed she was, quickly walking away and disappearing into her bedroom. 

\--

Bucky woke up sometime after nine am, surprised that he had managed to sleep an entire four hours without even a hint of a nightmare. Just peaceful blackness. The best kind of silence. 

After Tara had left last night, he climbed up to the roof to think. He stood, leaning against the rail, watching the waves crashing in the distance and pictured her eyes, brimming with tears.

“Please don’t do that again”

He knew ignoring her was the wrong thing to do, but he had been desperate to not cause her anymore pain. Maybe he saw too much of himself in her, and it terrified him. Whatever it was, it was obvious to him now that staying away had hurt her more than being too close. 

He just needs to stay strategic, he thought. If he lets himself get too familiar, he won’t be able to keep her protected. Sure, it’s going to hurt in a few months when he leaves, but she will be okay. She’ll be safe. 

If he just stays on the outside, if he doesn’t let her see the truth, then everything will be okay. 

No one has to get hurt, he repeated to himself. 

He tried to lay in bed for a while after he had stirred awake, but he couldn’t get comfortable. Relaxing like this still felt foreign to him, like something he could be punished for at any second. He took a deep breath, throwing off the sheets and heading for the bathroom. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, the metal of his arm shinning back at him, hurting his still sleep-heavy eyes. He reached up, fingers dancing over the blazing red star on his shoulder. They had truly branded him for everyone to see. 

Made in America. Build in Siberia. Property of Hydra. If lost, please return to your nearest comrade. 

He wondered how badly it would hurt if he cut it off, to finally rid himself of the dead weight, of the cruel recollections, of the blood on his hands. 

He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the aches in his bones and the memories lingering along the border of his mind. He stood there for what felt like an eternity before drying off quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking into the living room. 

He wandered through the kitchen looking for his notebook and pen, finding in on the far end of the bench. He needed to write down everything from the previous night before the memory got away from him. 

Picking it up in his metal hand, he walked towards the couch before glancing out the open window, feeling his whole body lock up. 

Tara was standing there, hair dripping wet over her shoulders and down her back. Her towel clung to her full figure, handing holding it up over her chest. He slowly turned his body a little more sideways, trying to make sure his prosthesis was better hidden. 

She raised her hand, giving him a wide smile and a wave. He instinctively gave her the same response before she walked back out of frame. 

As soon as she was gone, the severity of the situation dawned on Bucky. There was a good chance she had seen his arm. And if she had seen his arm, the she would have figured out his true identity by now. 

She was smart, really smart. It wouldn’t have taken very long for her to put two and two together. Fuck, he was actually surprised she hadn’t figured it out before this point. She could be calling the police right now. 

Fuck, this could be it. This could be all over. I should start packing, I need to get that bag out from under the floorboards. And the guns in the ceiling cavity. God, where did I stash that knife again? Jesus fuck. I can’t do this again, he told himself. 

He stopped himself as he paced around the room, grabbing onto the countertop to stop himself from shaking. He needed to think clearly, to really make sure he was right before he started tearing the apartment apart, looking for every last gun, every last bullet. 

She didn’t seem shocked or frightened, did she? Actually, she seemed kind of …happy? Maybe she didn’t see anything. It’s fine Bucky. Just breathe. In, out, one two three. In, out, one two three. 

He leaned further over the countertop, feeling his heart rate start to lower down to a normal pace. He knew deep down he should leave, that in reality he should have left weeks ago. But, once he heard the music coming softly from her apartment, he couldn’t dare his body to move. 

“The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wicked Games - Chris Issak


	29. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super small chapter I know I'm so sorry :(

Tara pressed shuffle on the playlist open on her phone, waiting till she heard the soft beats of the music before beginning her morning routine. She filled the kettle, putting it on the stand to boil while she cleaned the kitchen. She got out her favourite mug, fingers grazing over the black and white cup next to it. 

She considered inviting him over for last night, but she didn’t think he would have be very interested. As much as she wanted to ignore the truth, if she hadn’t been out there last night, he would have very much continued to overlook her existence. The thought sent a sharp stab of pain to her chest. 

The noise of the kettle boiling over snapped her from her thoughts, the steam pulling her back from the ledge. She finished making her drink and let it cool a little on the counter as she continued cleaning. The music shifted then, the smooth melody filling the apartment with the sound of another life time. 

“Stars shining bright above you  
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"  
Birds singing in the sycamore trees  
Dream a little dream of me”

Tara grabbed her mug off the countertop and closed her eyes, leaning back against the countertop as she took her first sip. The hot liquid burned her mouth in the best way, waking up every nerve ending in her body, like flipping a switch. 

She placed the cup down and stood in front of the sink, washing the dirty dishes. She swayed slightly along to the music, singing the lyrics she knew and humming the ones she didn’t. 

She thought she was going crazy, that maybe her fucked up sleep schedule was catching up to her, but she was positive she could feel eyes watching her. She turned around slightly, looking out the window over her shoulder. 

It was so quick she wasn’t sure she had even seen it, but it was metal. It was the bright flash of metal fighting through the shadows. Light against dark. Dark fading away. 

\--

She decided to read. It was nearly midday by this stage, and even though she needed to get some painting done today, she just couldn’t miss the last of the sunshine that was warming up the fire escape outside. 

She placed her speaker and mug on the window sill while she got comfortable. She picked up her phone, hitting shuffle on her ‘Reading’ playlist. The soft tones floated from the speakers into the Winter air, swirling around her and into neighbouring windows. 

“Home now, end of the night  
And it's colder to turn on your side  
And I know you are up in two hours  
But we didn't get tonight, we don't have tomorrow  
So don't ruin now”

She crossed her legs in front of her, leaning back against the wall and getting snug. She grabbed the book off the window sill, flipping till she found her page. 

It didn’t take long to hear a creak on the metal landing nearby. She could feel his presence, his warmth, his fear. She smiled to herself, still looking at the words on the page in front of her. Deep down, or maybe not that below the surface, this is what she wanted. This is what she was hoping for. 

“We need to stop meeting like this”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream a Little Dream of Me - Doris Day


	30. Lingering

“I guess I’m not as silent as I thought I was” Bucky voice echoed out across the space between them, making her smile wider as the sweet sound of his words filled her ears. His voice was laced with sarcasm, but she could sense there was little bit of disappointment. That maybe he realised that he wasn’t as invisible to her as he wished he was. 

She looked up at him, seeing him leaning against the wall. He was dressed in a white t-shirt, dark jacket and black jeans. His hair was still a little wet on the ends, making it stick to the back of this neck as he pushed it out of his face.

His eyes were their usual blue, a reflection of the clear midday sky above them. He looked like a dream to her, like the mirage you’d see after days lost in the desert. 

“Can I make you a drink?” She asked, gesturing to the cup of tea in her hand in suggestion. She wouldn’t blame him if he said no. She already felt guilty for what she said last night. She knows he doesn’t owe her anything. 

Bucky tosses up the options in his head. He either says no and hurts her, or he says yes and hurts her later down the line. 

He’s was scared to fall into the possible trap that lays ahead, but he thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing anymore. Maybe he could find some small sliver, some tiny piece of happiness for himself after everyone else has had their turn. Maybe that wouldn’t be too much to ask. 

“Yes please. If you don’t mind the company” He replied. She nodded quickly, smiling at him in silent response. She hoped he couldn’t sense how excited, how desperate she was for his company. 

He beamed back at her politely, before pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against and making the quick jump across the space between them, landing firmly next to her.

“I still don’t know how you make that jump look so easy” She said, mostly to herself, as she stepped inside to make him his drink. He took the moment to watch her, taking in the way she moved around the room like a feather caught in a breeze. 

She was dressed similar to the first day they had tea together. Light blue sundress delicately drifting around her porcelain legs, dark blue sweater covering her arms and all the pain hidden there. He wanted to wash away the scars, purge them from existence. He wanted to hold her close so no one could ever do this again. He just wanted to protect her. 

He walked inside and went to lean against the countertop as she fixed his drink. He watched as she reached up into the cabinet, smiling wide when he saw the raccoon design held delicately in her hands. 

“So why the raccoon?” He asked quietly, making her jump in fright. She mustn’t have heard him come in behind her and the idea that he could still sneak up on her made him chuckle. She almost spilt the boiling water on her hands, making Bucky reach out with his metal arm.

“You definitely are as silent as you thought” She said in an annoyed tone, but the smile on her face told him she held no aggression towards him. 

He grabbed the kettle out of her hands, fingers brushing against each other as he took hold. The contact of her hand against his gloved metal fingers sent a shiver down his spine, his heart skipping a beat. Her touch was barely enough to register, but he still felt it, loud and clear. He could feel the heat rising up the back of his neck but he ignored it, returning to the task at hand. 

Don’t blow it Barnes, he thought. 

“I think you just scare too easily Tara” He said as he finished pouring their drinks, trying to keep his nervous hand steading and returning the kettle to the stand in the corner. 

She sat up on the countertop behind her as he stood across from her. In this position, they were only a few steps apart, both ignoring the thoughts floating around in the corners of their minds. 

He raised an eyebrow at her in anticipation, which she returned back at him in confusion. 

“You haven’t answered the question” He said after a moment of collectively perplexed silence. It clicked in her brain then, making her nod her head slightly as she took a sip of her drink. 

“Oh right. Why the raccoon mug? Well, I guess you remind me of a raccoon” She said with a smirk, her mischievous eyes glaring at him over the brim of the porcelain flamingo. He simply shot her a confused grin, begging for a further explanation. 

“Okay hear me out. Your American, have dark features, long scruffy hair and I have a sneaking suspicion that you just run around at night eating trash. You are the closest thing to a human raccoon I’ve ever seen” She said confidently. 

He shot her an annoyed look before cracking the façade, giving her a wide grin. She giggled into the drink, making the tea splash up onto her nose. That made him laugh, properly laugh, loud and sincere, revelling in the feeling of the muscles in his stomach moving and tensing in ways he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

He balled the sleeve of this jacket up in his fist, reaching out and wiping the tea off her nose gently, cautious of the closeness between them. She simply smiled at him, getting lost in new details she could only make out while he was this close. 

Huh. There’s a touch of green in those eyes. And he has freckles? Not a lot, but enough to notice for sure. Should I kiss him? Oh god, no. That wouldn’t end well. Fuck, he’s beautiful. 

“Thank you” She said softly, scared that if she spoke too loud she would wake up from whatever dream she was clearly having. 

She twisted in her seat on the counter, grabbing his mug off the counter and handing it to him. He nodded, before stepping away from her and heading back towards the window.

She stayed there for a second, unable to make her limbs function again. She closed her eyes and let herself breath in the lingering scent of him left behind, before pushing herself off from the counter and following him outside.


	31. Home

Tara muttered a quick apology under her breath before reaching for her phone and lowering the volume slightly on the music playing from the device next to her. Bucky listened intently to the words spilling out of speaker, like he was trying to pick them up before they dripped down the cracks of the fire escape. 

“I had a dream  
I got everything I wanted  
But when I wake up, I see  
You with me”

“You really like music, don’t you?” Bucky asked, voice laced with curiosity before raising his cup to his lips. For a second she thought he was being sarcastic, but the look of sincerity in his eyes told her otherwise. 

“Yeah, I do. As much as I like living alone, the silence can be too much sometimes. Listening to music just makes everything feel less…empty” He looked at her with sadness in his eyes, brows furrowing in concerned. She could feel the pity radiating off him. 

“I know how sad that sounds” She continued, clutching the mug in her hands tightly. 

“I don’t think that’s sad at all” He said quickly, barely letting her words of self-loathing sit and steep for too long. She gave him a weak smile, crossing her legs and leaning back against the rail behind her. 

“What about you? Who’s your favourite musician?” She asked him, taking a sip of the hot drink in her hands. She was happy to move the subject away from her. 

“I don’t think I have one” He said after a few moments of thought. He tried and tried to look back into his memories, pulling out drawer after drawer of that filling cabinet and finding nothing but cobwebs and the blurry photos of a blonde man in blue and white. 

“Do you have a favourite genre?” She asked, trying to help him jog his memory a little. She could see him struggling a little, trying to find the right words to work himself out of this. 

“What about swing music? Like from the 20’s and 30’s. I don’t know what it is but something about you screams old-school” She continued, trying to give him a push in the right direction. 

His eyes lit up, smile crawling onto his lips. It was like he suddenly opened the next drawer and found it full, overflowing with memories he thought were lost. 

“Believe it or not you’re right” He said with the widest smile she’d ever seen grace his lips. His eyes became brighter, skin crinkly up in the corners, nose scrunching up in joy. It was one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. 

She reached for her phone, quickly searching for the playlist she wanted, pressing shuffle. The gentle beat of “Heart & Soul” began flowing from the speakers, and if Bucky thought he was listening intently to the music before, now he was practically drinking it. 

It all came back to him in vivid colour. He remembers dancing with the young nurse from down the hall. He remembers the nights stumbling home drunk, hearing the sweet sounds of saxophones and laughter filling the streets from candlelit windows, too high up to reach but close enough to feel rattle through his bones. 

It was almost too much for him, feeling tears of joy prick up in the corner of his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to gather himself together before he broke down completely in front of her. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes, resting his hands in his lap. It felt like his body could rest a little easier, like he had found a piece of the puzzle he thought was long lost under the floorboards in his mind. Tara had never seen him so relaxed before, so at peace. 

“Do you think you’ll go back home one day?” She asked after a moment, giving him some time to take it all in. She knew the truth, she knew he could never go back, but it felt like the right thing to ask. The thought of it alone nearly brought her to tears. 

It’s not fair. This man is innocent yet he’s the one paying the price for all of it. He’s the one that still loses everything, she thought. 

“I don’t think so. There isn’t much left there for me anymore” He said, looking into her pained eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. 

He wished he could tell her the whole truth, that everyone he knew, everyone he once loved, were all dead, and they had been for a long time. He had been forgotten about a long time ago by anyone who mattered there. 

He wished he could tell her that the city isn’t what it used to be, none of the places he could ever pull out of that filling cabinet would still be standing where they should be. New York wasn’t home anymore. New York was as foreign to him now as tenderness, as love, as a gentle caress. 

Nowhere was home anymore, he thought to himself. 

“You’ll just have to make a home somewhere else then, wont you?” She said, small smile gracing her lips. He simply nodded in return, smiling as he took a sip of his drink. 

Looking into her ocean eyes, glimmering against the sunlight, Bucky decided that if New York was never going to be his home again, then maybe this wasn’t such a bad runner up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I Wanted - Billie Eilish


	32. Never Tear Us Apart

Bucky woke shakily around eight am on Sunday morning, head throbbing and bones aching. He opened his eyes a little, letting them adjust to the morning sun that was filling the apartment. After spending the afternoon with Tara, he didn’t have a chance to sleep before his shift last night, and his body wasn’t happy about it. 

He sat up slowly, stretching out his sore joints and wincing at the sound of his bones cracking, the junctions finding their rightful place once again. 

He always hated that noise. It wasn’t that it brought back any specific memories, but it was just a feeling. It was a feeling of pain, of bones crushing in his hands, of blood dripping from his fingertips. Nightmares he cared to forget. 

Pushing the crawling feeling of dread down for another day, he stood up, finding a long sleeve shirt on the floor next to him and throwing it on to ward off the chill that hung in the air. 

The air was starting to grow colder and colder as the year carried on and as ironic as it was, he loved winter. It was easier to hide, easier to fall into the background. No one gives a second glance to the guy wearing a hood and gloves during the winter. No one considers what he’s trying to hide.

He walked into the kitchen, putting a few slices of bread into the toaster and leaning back against the countertop. He let his head fall backwards and gazed towards the ceiling, closing his eyes and focusing on the sounds around him. 

The elements of the toaster crackling as it heats up, bread burning, the neighbour one floor down, Italian man in his late 50’s washing the dishes, the newborn two floors down is crying again, the birds chirping outside, winds blowing lightly, a kettle blowing off steam, music playing softly, singing, her voice …

“I was standing  
You were there  
Two worlds collided  
And they could never tear us apart”

His eyes flickered open, head turning to the window instinctively. He walked slowly towards the window, pushing the curtains back just slightly, just enough to peer out and into her apartment. 

She was standing there, back to him as she poured herself a drink, singing along lightly to the music. She was still in her pajamas, colourful pants, emblazoned in flowers and a white t-shirt two sizes too large for her. She had her hair worn out, loose curls flowing down her back and shoulders, fingers pushing it out of her face as she leant across to put the kettle down. 

The sound of his toast popping made him jump a little. She’s rubbing off on me, he said to himself, smiling as he finished making his breakfast. 

He sat on the small table close to the window and listened, smiling to himself and letting small chuckles fall from his lips as he heard her float around her apartment, singing along to songs he had never heard before but couldn’t wait to hear again. 

After breakfast, he stood up, putting his plate in the sink and grabbing his notebook off the kitchen counter. He decided it was best to write down everything he could remember from the previous day. He never knows when he might remember something for the last time. 

He threw himself down on the couch, feeling his back ache in protest at the effort. He picked up his pen, opening to the next page and began writing, scribbling across the page with the urgency of a man who has lost his mind once before and scared to see if wiped again. 

\--

We met out on the fire escape again. Sometimes I think she lives out there. She made me tea, my favourite kind. As much as I try and recreate it, I just can’t get it the same. I don’t know how she does it but it’s perfect. She’s perfect. 

For a second, when we were in the kitchen, I thought she was going to kiss me? Or was I going to kiss her? I could feel her heart-rate speed up and her breath get faster against my arm when I reached up for her face. Maybe it just made her uncomfortable? I probably shouldn’t get that close to her again. That was reckless. I could have hurt her.

She played me music, real music that I could remember. It was incredible. When I closed my eyes, it felt like I was home, like I had never left. Everything washed away for a second, all the memories, all the nightmares. It was just the wind and the music and her. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her for that. I need to think of something. Surely there’s some way I could repay her? 

\--

It was like a lightbulb was flickered on as an idea came into Bucky’s head. At first, he was excited, almost proud of himself for thinking of the perfect way to repay her, but then the reality of it set in. 

He would need to travel, out into the city, for who knows how long. There would be so many witnesses, so many eyes on him. The odds for something going wrong were high. If someone spotted him, it was all over. 

He leant forwards, discarding his notebook on the coffee table and putting his head in his hands. He sat there for a while, trying to steady his breathing. He didn’t have the energy for this right now. He just wants to do something nice for someone for the first time in seventy years. 

That’s normal, isn’t it? Why can’t things just be normal. Why does it always have to end like this? Why does it always have to end in a fight? He asked himself. 

He felt his heart-rate getting higher, breaths coming out shorter. He stood up, walking closer to the window and desperately tried to grasp onto some fresh air. It felt like his lungs where closing up, squeezing like a vice in his chest. He put his palms against the window frame, curtains pulled closed, hiding him from the outside world. 

He heard her then, the sounds of her sock covered feet landing on the fire escape. She was humming under her breath, lyrics he could only just catch over the sound of his own heartbeat. 

He focused on her, on the sound of her settling in her usual spot, the sound of pages flipping, of cautious sips of hot tea. 

He felt his whole body started to relax, arms and legs no longer feeling like lead. He knew the risks of what he wanted to do, but she was worth it. She was worth losing it all. 

“Take my hand, take my whole life too  
For I can't help falling in love with you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never Tear Us Apart - INXS  
Cant Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley


	33. Ankle-Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short chapter so ill update again tonight! stay safe y'all

“Good morning sunshine” Tara said, the words coming out before she could try and filter away the nickname. She hid further behind her book and closed her eyes for a second, shaking her head slightly, before looking up at him. He was sitting on his window frame, legs extended out in front of him. 

She watched him carefully, taking in the dark jeans and jacket he was wearing, the way he clicked the heels of his boots together lightly. She watched the way he pushed his hair out of his face with his gloved hands, wondering if he was every going to be comfortable enough around her to take them off. 

“I can’t say I look at myself in a mirror very often, but I know I definitely don’t look like sunshine today” He joked, seeming to ignore the nickname, or at least Tara thought so. Bucky could feel his heart going a million miles an hour, but he tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. 

It doesn’t mean anything, he said to himself.

“Rough night at work?” She asked, placing the book in her hands down and sitting up slightly, giving him her full attention. It made him a little nervous, having those piercing blue eyes staring at him. Nervous but comfortable in a strange way Bucky couldn’t comprehend yet.

“A little. Just tired mostly” He replied honestly. He didn’t need to lie now, not with her, not about this. Things like this, the easy, the mundane, flowed between them like water. He cherished it. He didn’t know the last time he had someone to speak about nothing with.

“I would offer to make you a cuppa but I have to run to work for a few hours” She said, smiling regretfully at him. She wanted nothing more than to sit there in the last of the sunshine with this man, but duty called, even on her weekend off. 

“That’s okay, I’ve got some errands to run anyway. I was just coming to ask if you were free tonight?” He asked sheepishly. He tried to keep his voice level, unwavering, but he was struggling. He knew this shouldn’t be a big deal, that it was just two acquaintances spending some time together. 

You know that’s not what this is Buck, he whispered to himself. 

“Yeah, I haven’t got any plans. Did you have something in mind?” She asked, the smile on her lips one of the biggest he had seen before. She felt like her heart had stopped, before stuttering and restarting at a rhythm twice as fast. She knew she was coming off way too keen, but she didn’t care. 

“I was hoping maybe we could have some dinner and watch the next Star Wars film?”   
He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and he could feel the warmth seeping through the glove. He felt a wave of relief wash over him when she quickly nodded, excited energy practically radiating off her like a wave. 

“I would love to. I’ll be home around four if you’d like to come over around then. Let’s just order in, I don’t feel like cooking tonight” She said as she stood up from her comfortable seat in the corner and picked up that same pink cup he was becoming accustomed to seeing in her hands. 

“I’ll see you then” He said, standing up and putting his hands into his pockets, trying to come across as calm and composed. Inside it felt like someone had just lit a match in a room already on fire. 

“Goodbye Buck” She said, eyes shining back at him, gleaming with anticipation. He smiled back at her, before taking off down the fire escape towards the street below. 

There’s this feeling he gets every time he has to venture out in the light of day. This feeling of panic, of drowning. It always feels like he’s on the verge of suffocating, the water slashing up around his face, daring to pull him under. 

He could feel her eyes watching him as he reached the sidewalk, and he couldn’t help but turn around. 

She gave him a wide smile before stepping inside, taking the rushing waves with her, leaving him to wade through the ankle-deep water left behind.


	34. She Knew Too Much

Tara had almost forgotten how busy her workplace got on weekends. Back home in Australia, she would always work out on the shop floor, dealing with the hundreds and hundreds of customers flooding through the doors every day.

It was hard work, but rewarding in a strange way. For all the terrible, rude customers she would see on a daily basis, there was always that ones who stood out. The one who said thank you, the one who complimented her earrings, the ones who appreciated her knowledge. They were the ones who made it worthwhile. 

But here, in her new role, she had the long sought after luxury of weekend freedom, something she didn’t have back home. That is, unless there was a huge store launch in two weeks, leading her to where she is right now.

She peeled her eyes away from the large windows on the opposite side of the meeting room where she was watching the clouds pass by idly. She felt Finn’s hand tap her lightly on her side, a subtle way to get her attention. She realised then that her manager had asked her a question, a question she had completely ignored. 

She felt her cheeks burn red, the embarrassment crawling over her skin like tiny spiders. She quickly blinked, eyes wide in fear, giving her manager an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry Julia, can you please repeat the question” Tara asked, voice cracking a little. She hoped no one else noticed how distracted she was. She was still only new here, and winning over her co-workers meant more to her then she realised, let alone cared to admit.

“I asked how the plans for the mattress shop rebuild is coming along? Do you think you’ll need help getting it finished?” She asked, voice stern but caring. 

Julia had always been a great manager. She was the type to get involved, not just sit back on the sidelines and let her coworkers carry the load. She always asked how Tara was feeling, how she was settling in, and she appreciated that. Sometimes Julia felt like the only person who cared. 

“Oh, I should be fine. I’m nearly finished with the final touches and that should only take me another day or so. Once I’m done, I’ll email out the overview to the department co-workers so they can start to get their heads around the changes” Tara said, as confidently as she could muster. 

As terrified and anxious as she felt on the inside, she always seemed to come across as confident at work. Or at least she hoped so.

The rest of the meeting seemed to drag on for hours. It was easy to get bored in things like this. This wasn’t the first catalogue launch she had lived through, and she knew it wouldn’t be her last. 

It was the same routine every year. Everyone would stress out, the launch would be planned last minute, and all of the interior designers would have a few weeks to complete a few months’ worth of work. Nothing new.

By the time the end of the meeting finally rolled around, it was bordering on three pm. She picked up her notebook and pen, collected her papers and floorplans and placed them all back into her bag. 

She waved goodbye to a few of her coworkers as they headed for the door, muttering something about enjoying the rest of their weekends. 

“Thank you for coming in today. I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow morning” Julia said, stopping in the doorway as Tara stood up from her seat. 

“Goodnight Julia, see you tomorrow” Tara called out behind her. 

She could till sense someone else though, the air thick and heavy with tension. That was when Tara realised that Finn was still in the room, casually leaning against the wall behind her, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

Things between Tara and Finn had been a little off for the past few weeks, ever since Tara had first mentioned her new neighbour. She had tried to pass it off as stress at work, but she couldn’t help but feel like something was different, like something had switched in him. 

“Don’t you love having to sit through a meeting that could have been a simple email?” He said sarcastically as she stood up from her seat. 

“Tell me about it. Still have the night to salvage I guess” She said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking slowly towards the door. He followed, keeping a few feet between them as they walked towards security and the exit to the carpark. 

“Speaking of tonight, I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner?” He asked as they reached the elevator, shoving his hands into his pockets. She gave him a sideways glance, but he avoided her eyes. She had never seen Finn like this before. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve got dinner plans tonight” She said honestly, both of them stepping into the elevator and heading down to the basement carpark. 

Finn was a nice guy by any standards. He had bright blonde hair, clear honey skin and deep brown eyes. He had a great sense of humour, a contagious laugh. He was caring and kind, always asked you how your day was or if you needed help with something. 

He was a real gentleman, or at least she had heard that. She wasn’t naïve to the fact that every woman here had a crush on him. If she believed some of the rumours, then some of them had even succeeded in the past at winning him over. She still wasn’t so sure what to believe. 

His head shot up, eyes growing darker. He tilted his head slightly to the side as he spoke, deep and slow. Tara felt a wave of fear wash over her, stomach dropping to her feet. 

“Let me guess, it’s that neighbour, isn’t it? The one you are so clearly in love with” He practically spit the second sentence out of his mouth, disgusted by his own words. 

“I’m not in love with him” She said quickly, trying desperately to keep those words out of her head. She couldn’t be in love with him. He would never fall in love with someone like her, someone so unworthy. 

“So, it is him. You should be careful Tara, I don’t trust this guy” He said, taking a step closer to her, making her take an instinctive step back. She ran into the wall of the elevator, hands clinging to the rail behind her back. 

“You don’t know anything about him” She said quietly, words coming out too loud in the small space, echoing off the walls and hitting her back in the face. Her eyes flashed to the small screen indicating the floor they were on, and she breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw it flick to the carpark. 

“See, that’s the problem Tara. You don’t know anything about him either, do you?” He said, words coming out course and rough, grating against her skin like knives. The doors opened and Finn quickly turned, heading towards his car in the opposite end of the carpark. 

Tara stood there for second, soaking in his words before she practically threw herself out of the elevator, walking quickly to her car. Sliding into the seat, she locked the door and rested her head against the steering wheel, taking a few deep breaths till her chest didn’t feel so tight anymore.

If it wasn’t so serious she could laugh at it. 

Finn was wrong. She knew too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: theres a quote in this chapter that I actually have tattooed on my thigh


	35. Head Low, Eyes Sharp

Bucky knew this was going to be difficult, but he never expected it to be like this. He had tried three different grocery stores, but still no luck so far. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, this was Eastern Europe, not suburban Australia. This wasn’t exactly a stable in many people pantry’s. 

He did one last scan of the shelf in front him and headed quickly for the exit, avoiding eye contact with the door greeter trying to wish him a good afternoon. He stepped out on to the sidewalk and hurried west towards the Delft city centre.

As he staked down the street, he realised there was only a few more stores he could check before he would have to head into Rotterdam or The Hague. 

The thought alone made the air around him become too thin, making it hard to breathe and the sun was so bright and there were so many eyes. Eyes everywhere, scanning him, scanning him again, stepping cautiously past him like he was about to snap.

He reached the corner of the street and came to a large four-way intersection, the size alone making freeze. He lifted his head slightly, looking out from underneath his low baseball cap. He scanned the street, absentmindedly counting the people around him, taking in the features of the civilians closest to him. 

Middle aged woman, blonde hair, olive skin, full figure. Newborn in holster against her chest. Threat level: Low

Young man, maybe twenty-five. Short dark hair, dark eyes. Looking up and down the street rapidly. Hands in pockets. Left leg twitching. Unsettled. Threat level: High. Avoid at all costs.

Athletic woman, medium length red hair, light skin. Late twenties to early thirties. Running shoes. Earphones in, talking to someone on the phone. Threat level: Sufficient. Avoid.

The sound of the crosswalk turning green broke him from his unintentional haze. He couldn’t help it in situations like this. Any time he had to go out in public during the day, his training would take over. 

It felt like a storm would rumble in and cloud over Bucky Barnes, the person, the human, and just leave the Winter Soldier behind the finish the mission alone. It felt like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. In moments like this, he was almost glad about it. 

He walked a few more blocks, eyes constantly scanning the faces around him, feet moving quickly. He had his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the leather of the gloves feeling hot against his palms. He might have been one of the most feared men at some point in history, but right now he was scared. He was the one sweating in fear. 

He crossed the street and spotted a small grocery store a few storefronts down. He picked up the pace, winding his way around the many civilians mustering around during the lunch time rush. He reached the front of the shop, praying to whatever God there was that they stocked what he was after. 

He made a beeline for the aisle he thought it might be, judging from the small description Tara had given him a few weeks earlier. He found the section, eyes scanning frantically.

His heart was racing, skin crawling with desperation. He didn’t know why he found it so necessary to get this for her, but he knew he needed to. This felt important to him even if it shouldn’t. 

That’s when he spotted it, yellow and black label standing out against the rest like a spotlight on the sea. Like her eyes he thought, brighter than the rest. 

He found the largest size on the shelf, grabbing the last few jars and heading for the registers. He quickly paid, making sure to keep his head down and eyes low, giving the cashier the lease amount of contact possible before rushing out the door. 

See, that was probably his first mistake of the afternoon. He was too caught up in his little victory that he let his training slip, the clouds in his eyes fading away for a second. He slammed into the person about to walk into the front door, bag in his fingers nearly going flying against the concrete. 

He stepped back quickly, pulling his hat lower down over his eyes before muttering an apology and starting to walk away. He was only given a second of freedom before he left a hand tighten on his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Hey James. Fancy seeing you here?” The deep voice said, laced with genuine surprise. 

Bucky let out a loud sigh of relief at the sight of Chris standing in front of him. It wasn’t that he completely trusted this man, but it was better than a few other faces he could picture right now. 

“Yeah I could say the same about you. Sorry about running into you, I was a little distracted” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. Chris didn’t need to know about the feeling of dread simmering in the bottom of his stomach right now. 

“Oh yeah? Just doing a little shopping hey?” Chris asked casually, tucking him hands into his jean pockets. 

“Just getting my neighbour a gift” Bucky said sternly, knowing that Chris would run with this, his imagination going wild. 

“Oh right, your girlfriend! How could I forget” Christ replied jokingly, giving Bucky’s shoulder a light punch. He tried to hide it, but Bucky’s lips shot up into a wide grin before he composed himself again.

“She’s not my girlfriend” Bucky said back firmly and Chris just raised his eyebrows, giving him a smirk. He laughed at the look of naivety on Bucky’s face. 

“Yes of course. How could I forget” He said through a chuckle. Bucky just rolled his eyes. 

He needed to get himself out of this conversation. He had been out in public too long and it was making his skin crawl. 

“I have to go Chris, I’ll see you at work” He said, already starting to step away from the conversation before Chris could stop him. 

“Wouldn’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting, now would we?” He said sarcastically. Bucky kept walking, simply giving him a wave over his shoulder and heading down the street back towards Hoek van Holland, letting the Winter Soldier take over again. 

Head low, eyes sharp. 

\--

He arrived back at his apartment just before four pm. He stood on his fire escape for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from his neighbour. 

He could hear the shower running in Tara’s apartment, music playing loudly over the top of the rushing water, her voice muffled in with it all as she sang along to the music. She was safe, she was alive. He could breathe a little easier with that. 

After dropping his bag on the kitchen counter, he went to the bathroom. He quickly washed his face and hands, fixing his hair a little and looking at himself in the mirror. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and resting his hands tightly on the countertop. 

He could feel the Winter Soldier fade further away as listened to his breathing, focusing on keeping the breaths even, heartbeat steady. The cold, deadly intruder going quiet and still in his head, clouds lifting, revealing the sun. 

You won’t hurt her Bucky. It’s okay. 

He made the jump over to her apartment easily enough, planting himself on her window sill, jars of vegemite in the bag behind his back. He heard the shower switch off, music turning quiet. It crossed his mind then that maybe he should have given her a little more time alone, to at least finish getting changed. That was his second mistake of the afternoon.

Tara walked out of her bathroom moments later, towel wrapped around her curvy figure. Her hair was still dripping, strands clinging to her chest and face. She started walking towards her bedroom, unaware of the guest waiting for her attention.

Bucky cleared his throat, making her jump and almost losing her towel in the process. She whipped around, seeing him sitting on the window with an apologetic look on his face. 

If he didn’t look like that, so soft and warm, eyes wide and hair glowing in the sun shining against his back, she could almost be mad. 

But she couldn’t. She knew she could never be angry at him. He had felt enough anger for a lifetime, largely undeserved. She wasn’t going to be the one to add anymore.


	36. Tension

“One day, I’m going to punch you” Tara said, laugh coming out like a quick breath. She wrapped the towel a little tighter across her chest, fingers clenching the fabric in front of her. He smiled back at her, small laugh leaving his lips and hands raising in surrender at his side. 

“I’d love to see you try” He said, mischief in his eyes. She knew he was right, that he would be able to stop any punch before she even had the chance to consider it. He was the toughest combatant in the world. She knew she should be scared of him, but she wasn’t. 

She watched him closely and noticed his eyes glance over every part of her body. It was quick, so quick that if she had blinked in that moment she would have missed it. But she didn’t miss it, she noticed it all too much. 

She suddenly realised just how exposed she was, the bottom of the towel just grazing her upper thighs, dancing on the edge of the scars there. The realisation made her blood run cold. 

“I um… I think I’m going to get changed. I’ll be back in a second” She said before quickly making her way to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Once safely hidden in her room, she leant back against the door, breathing out heavily. He didn’t scare her, but god did he make her nervous.

He closed his eyes for a second and leant against the window sill, mind trying to commit this image of her to memory. It wasn’t the explicitness of it. It was the rawness. Wet hair, skin radiating heat from the hot water, the smells of apple and blossoms and sweetness. It was the purest version of someone, of anyone, of her. The most vulnerable moment. 

She returned a few minutes later, making Bucky startle and stand to his feet out of habit, still clutching his gift behind him. She shot him a kind smile, before she started walking towards the kitchen. 

He watched as she floated around the space, wearing comfortable sweatpants and a warm sweater, hair rolled up in the towel on her head. 

She was looking him in the eyes as she stood with her back to the sink, something in her hand he couldn’t quite make out just yet. He watched her mouth move and words fall out silently to the floor. He wasn’t sure how, but she always managed to bring about this haze of wonder in him. 

“Hello, earth to Bucky?” She said, hands waving in her face to get his attention. He stood there for a second longer, blinking rapidly. 

“I’m sorry. What was the question?” He asked, standing up straighter out of a bad habit. Always at attention. Always ready for orders. 

“Can I make you a drink?” She replied, eyebrows raised and raccoon cup already in hand. He nodded quickly as an answer, shooting her an earnest smile before she turned and started making his tea. 

He walked over to the kitchen slowly, stepping a little heavier on purpose. He didn’t want to scare her again. At least not twice in the same day. 

He placed the bag quietly on the bench and leaned against the counter across from her. Not too close, but close enough to smell her shampoo, to feel the warmth coming off her skin. He watched her intently, admiring how delicately her fingers seemed to work. The finesse, the skill, the gentleness.

“How was work?” He asked. She shot him a sideways glace, one that spoke volumes. Terrible. Stressful. Pointless. Bored. Worried. It said it all. 

“That good hey?” He asked, genuinely curious. She looked at him properly this time as she poured the boiling water into her own mug. The concern on his face was palpable, making her smile with affection. She let out a short laugh before replying. 

“I guess you could say that. No, it was fine. It was just a meeting regarding the big catalogue launch that’s starting in two weeks” She said, giving the drinks one last stir before turning and handing Bucky his mug. She leaned back against the counter across from him, continuing. 

“It pretty much means that a mountain of new stock is arriving and it’s my job to make sure it’s all used somewhere in my roomsets. My plans are nearly done so I’m not too stressed, but wait till I start the implementation phase and I’ll be a wreak. I always am.” She said, taking a timid sip of her drink, brows furrowing in pain at the heat. 

“You’ll be fine. I know you can handle it” He said, eyes heavy and intense as he looked at her over the rim of his mug. He said it with such confidence that it made her heart skip a beat. Sure, there had been people who had believed in her in the past. Her family, her friends. But this, this felt different. This felt important. 

“Thanks Buck” She said after a moment of silence, letting his words hang in the air long enough for her to relish in them a little. She knew sooner or later he would realise he was wasting his time on her, so for now she would take whatever he was kind enough to drop at her feet. 

“You know. This weird thing happened after my meeting. It kind of scared me a little actually” She said, watching Bucky tense up immediately. He stood up off the counter quickly, eyes getting bigger, more frantic. He kept his mug in his hands, but she could see them start to clench into fists. She knew if she didn’t clear this up quickly she might be losing her favourite cup. 

“It was nothing really. This guy I work with, Finn, I think he asked me on a date?” She said, noticing his shoulders didn’t budge, tension still ever present. Her eyes flicked to his hands and they remain clenched, jaw staying rigid. 

“What’s so scary about that?” He asked, voice strained and deep. He was scared that if he spoke to much, his real thoughts would come tumbling out. He didn’t like this. Not at all. She didn’t owe him anything, but the thought of someone else close to her, touching her …

“Oh nothing. He just got a little… intense after I turned him down. Just freaked me out a little” She said, taking a long sip from her cup and looking down into her tea. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She knew she shouldn’t have told him any of this, but it was too late now. 

“What did he do? Did he hurt you?” He asked cautiously, almost in a whisper. She wasn’t sure how to take his reaction. She couldn’t tell if it was anger or disbelief. He wondered if she could hear the fear in his voice. 

“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just got a little… aggressive I guess? I’m probably reading into it too much. It was nothing, honestly. He just can’t take rejection I guess” She said rather unsurprised, like it was nothing. Like this kind of aggression was nothing new, nothing unheard of to her. The sentiment felt by women everywhere. It made Bucky’s heart sink. 

She looked back down at her mug, stirring the contents a little. She told him this much, but he didn’t need to know everything. 

“Why did you turn him down?” He asked after a moment, voice quiet with anticipation. She couldn’t hear the hope behind his words, but he could. Hope was all he clung to right now as the imagine of another man standing in his place, drinking from this mug danced around his head. 

“Because… I wanted to spend time with you” She said truthfully, blue eyes staring up at him. 

He felt the vice in his lungs loosen, her words putting out the fire in his chest. He smiled at her, wide and real and full of light, full of stars. 

She smiled back at him adoringly, before her eyes flashed to the left, to something behind him. He felt his stomach drop, breath catching in his throat, heart racing with nervousness. 

“Bucky…What is that?”


	37. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil short chapter I apologise. the next few chapters are pretty short till around chapter forty-one where we hit some of my favourite chapters so far!! 
> 
> thank you guys for your continued reading, it means the world to me! stay safe xx

It took him a second to remember what was on the counter behind him, but god did that second feel like a lifetime. 

He felt his reflexes start to kick into action, making him want to reach for the knife that always laid flat against his ankle. The cool metal on his skin was a constant reminder that he was always playing a game of chances. 

He stopped himself though, the memory of his gift for her running back to the forefront of his mind before he could pull the blade free from its holster. 

“It may be a gift for you. It’s stupid, really” He said, keeping his eyes down at his feet. He didn’t know why, but suddenly the gift felt ridiculous. He knew she deserved more then he could ever give her, but especially more than this. 

“Can I open it?” She asked eagerly. He nodded and watched as she quickly moved around him to grab the bag. She gave a small, excited squeal, fingers fumbling with the packaging. 

She finally got a hold of the contents inside and Bucky watched as her eyes widened, breath catching in her throat. She turned, shock plastered across her face.

“Is this what I think it is? Not some weird European rip-off?” She asked, voice coming out small and meek. He nodded slowly in reply. It was like a switch flipped inside, her lips forming a huge smile as tears silently trickled down her cheek. 

She placed the jar down slowly on the counter before stretching out and wrapping her arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He could feel that she was up on the tips of her toes, reaching up to him like a child reaching for the moon. 

He froze as he realised what was happening. It took him a moment to process it all, the weight of her against him, the warmth of her skin, the feeling of her fingers grazing the back of his neck. 

Cautiously, he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping his metal arm down straight against his side. She noticed it straight away but didn’t question it. She understood. 

He almost cried at the feeling. It felt so foreign, having someone touch him like this, someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, to torture him, to kill him. It was like laying in the eye of a storm, something gentle in between so much course. 

Chaos, chaos, calm. Chaos, chaos, calm. 

She pulled away too quickly for both of their likings, muttering a timid apology for being too excited. She walked back over to the bag, pulling out all three large jars of vegemite and sitting them on the counter in front of her, like she was making sure they were real.

“What’s this for?” She asked, wiping away the tears of surprise streaking across her face. The sadness in her voice threw him a little, making him take a step closer to her. He knew that wasn’t what she was really asking. 

Why would you do this for me? Why would you do anything for me? What makes you think I deserve this?

“Just because” He replied with a shrug, trying to come across as casual as possible. Deep down he hoped she could read the unspoken words flashing across his lips. 

Because you deserve it. Because you’ve helped me more than I’ve realised just yet. Because I … 

“Thank you, Buck. This means more to me than I’m proud to admit” She said sincerely, quickly wiping the last of her tears away with her thumb. Her demeanor changed, mischievous grin spreading across her face. 

“I don’t like that look Tara” He said, voice low and cautious. He knew that she wasn’t going to hurt him, but there was still a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he was making a mistake, that someone was going to get hurt. 

“You know this means you have to try some, right?” She said, walking past him to grab some bread from the pantry and placing it in the toaster. 

She turned back to face him, sitting up on the counter across from him. He tried to give her a look of annoyance, but she simply laughed, crossing her hands over her chest. 

“Hey don’t give me that look. You’ve done this to yourself mate” She said, laughter echoing out across the apartment as he rolled his eyes at her attitude. 

He tried it, after letting her beg for a few minutes, watching in awe as she gave her best pitch of how this was the ‘true Australian experience’. Her accent came through strong as she rambled on and on with stories from her childhood, of the happy memories this gift had brought up. 

He knew all along he was going to try it. She could feed him poison and he would swallow it happily. In truth, when he finally quit the act and ate it, it did kind of taste like poison, but the smile on her face was worth it. 

He would do anything for her. He knew that now.


	38. I Don't Know If He Ever Was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short chapter I apologise! I'm planning on hopefully posting another chapter or two this weekend. stay safe y'all xx

Tara felt useless that entire Monday morning. She desperately tried to stay on task, but it felt impossible. She found herself focusing on the plans and sketches in front of her for only a few minutes before her mind began to wander again, eyes floating to the window next to her desk. 

She watched the cars on the road outside passing by in almost a blur, the chilly wind blowing through the trees along the front path, the people wandering through the courtyard outside, holding steaming cups of coffee to their lips, huddled together for warmth like moths to a flame. 

It was around this point in her daydream that her thoughts would wander to him, to his deep blue eyes and generous smile. She could remember the way he looked sitting back on her couch, finally becoming more comfortable in her presence. 

She could remember how soft, how gentle, how content he seemed, just sitting there, eyes wide with a childlike sense of wonder as he took in the film playing in front of him. 

If she closed her eyes, even just for a second, she could feel him in her arms again, the natural musk smell of his skin, the warm of his body against hers. 

“Hello, earth to Tara” Finn said suddenly, making her snap her head back around to face the man sitting at the desk next to her, her vision blurring for a second as the blood rushed to her head. 

They hadn’t talked about what happened the previous day, and Tara was grateful. She had been one to handle confrontation very well at all, so she was willing to ignore the encounter and pretend it never happened. 

“Hey, sorry Finn. I was somewhere else for a second there” She said honestly, shaking her head a little as if to trying to rattle the memories loose. She gave him an apologetic smile that he didn’t return. 

“Yeah, I can imagine where you might have been” He said, slightly under his breath in a tone that Tara didn’t appreciate. She always thought their friendship was better than this, better than snarky comments and threats in elevators. 

She raised her eyebrow at him, staying silent and pretending she didn’t hear the anger laced in his voice. He cleared his throat, the fake smile plastered on his lips replacing the harsh glare he had just carried. 

“I’ll need that build list off of you soon so I can give it to Johann, he needs to start on the furniture soon” He said, clearly trying to come across a little more upbeat now that others in the office could hear him. 

That was always a clear sign of him trying to get his own way, that façade of optimism. She knew him well enough by now that when Finn wanted something, he really turned up the charm.   
He was an attractive guy, but he knew that a little too well. He knew with a flex of his muscles and a hand run through his golden hair, that no one could say no to him. 

It crossed her mind then that maybe she had been the first one to do so. Maybe that’s why his reaction yesterday had seemed so out of place. He was a man who’s never heard no. 

“Yeah of course. I just finished it” She said as she rummaged through the pile of papers in front of her, searching for the right list. 

She found it, handing it over to him with the biggest smirk she could muster. He thanked her loudly, tone tittering on bitter. He barely gave her a second look as he stormed away to find Johann. 

She let out an unintentionally loud sigh, looking around the office awkwardly before making eye contact with one of her coworkers, Jenny, sitting at her desk nearby. 

Jenny gave her an exasperated look, arching her eyebrows in the direction of Finn who was standing on the far side of the office speaking to Johann.

Tara realised then that she must have heard their conversation, heard the way Finn slicked on the charm like oil on water. Tara nodded solemnly and Jenny rolled her eyes, mouthing the word ‘men’, making Tara laugh a little too loud for the rather quiet office. 

She tried to focus her attention back to the plans on the screen in front of her, determined to get them finalised before lunch. But, surely enough, after five minutes her mind had roamed, eyes watching the clouds moving in the sky outside.

She watched them as they created their own patterns, the harsh shadows dancing along the concrete as the clouds passed by. The sky was so bright and vivid, the colour sending her mind floating back to the blue of his eyes, the glow of his smile, the solid, undeniable sound of his heartbeat.

If only everyone can see what I can see, what I can feel. 

This man isn’t the Winter Soldier. 

I don’t know if he ever was.


	39. I Know You Won't Hurt Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long with this update! I've been feeling a little defeated with this fic lately and second-guessing whether or not its any good at all. 
> 
> But thats enough whinging for me, here's some garbage.

Bucky was exhausted, well and truly. He knew that staying up so late with Tara wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t will himself to put an early end to their time together. 

After finishing the movie around eleven pm, she called it a night. She was bordering on passing out, eyes puffy with sleep. He watched adoringly as she waddled to bed, murmuring thank yous and goodnights behind her as she disappeared in her dark bedroom. 

For a second, just the smallest selfish moment, he considered following her. He imagined crawling into bed next to her, feeling her warmth beside him. He couldn’t remember that last time he slept next to someone, making him wonder if maybe he never had before. 

He shook the image from his head, quickly making his way out of her apartment and shutting the window behind him as silently as possible. He jumped across the way, landing on his fire escape with a shallow thump. He headed inside, checking the time on the clock on the wall. 

He had one hour till he had to start his shift, deciding to spend a large chuck of that time in the shower, relishing in the way the hot water burned against his skin. It made him feel new, like he was shedding away that layer that didn’t feel like his own skin.

\--

It was eight thirty am, and Bucky had just arrived home from his shift, throwing himself down on the sofa. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. It felt like his bones were turning to stone, limbs starting to become numb with sleep. 

He thought of getting up and trudging to bed, but the idea of pulling himself up again seemed impossible. Instead, he laid back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

In the brief moment before he let sleep take over, he pictured the colour blue. He thought of the smell of apples and paint and the sensation of skin against him, the undeniable feeling of her. 

If he didn’t know any better, he could almost hear her voice, whispering to him softly. 

I know you won’t hurt me. 

\--

Bucky woke up around four pm, the afternoon sunlight shinning in his eyes and stirring him from sleep. He looked around, eyes weary and slow, brain taking a moment to come back to life. 

He laid there for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the birds chirping outside, the wind making the fire escape creak, the whip of the curtains as they blew in the breeze. 

He heard her then, footsteps loud from the steel cap boots she wore to work, the thuds even louder as she kicked them off after closing her front door. He heard her throw her bag down, footsteps growing louder before the window opened and padded feet hit the landing outside. 

It was now or never

He grabbed his gloves off the coffee table in front of him, slipping them on and checking twice for any still visible slithers of cold metal before throwing on his jacket and beanie. 

He stood up and headed for the window, not even letting the voice in the back of his head finish its protests. He stepped out onto the landing, feeling the cool breeze glide delicately across his cheek. 

She was sitting across from him on her windowsill, head in hands, golden hair flowing in the wind like liquid. She was tapping her feet slightly, legs trembling. She hadn’t heard him come outside.

He stood there for a second, just watching. She was still in her uniform, white t-shirt and grey trade pants, covered in pockets and paint. 

He imagined her at work, wandering around that giant store, bringing life to the images in her head. He can picture her sitting at her desk, blueprints between her fingers, mug of tea at her lips. It was beautiful.

He noticed her breath start to hitch, chest rising and failing irregularly. The grip of her hands in her hair got tighter, making her knuckles start to turn white in frustration. 

It wasn’t until he saw a tear fall from her cheek, making a thud so soft on the fire escape that he almost missed it completely, that he decided to make his presence known. 

“Tara…” He said, cautious not to scare her. She still jumped a little, head shooting up so fast he even felt the blood rush to his head. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, making him realise she had probably been crying long before she stepped out onto the fire escape. 

She wiped her eyes, sweeping her hands roughly across her entire face. She leaned back, resting her head against the window frame and shooting Bucky a look of defeat, a look of sadness. 

It was heartbreaking, seeing her like this. 

Despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks, there was a sense of comfortability floating in the air around her and he hated it.


	40. Resentment

“We really have to stop meeting like this Buck” She said, voice coming out course and rough like she hadn’t used it in a while. She sat up a little straighter, shooting him a smile that was clearly meant to come across as strong, but just simmered out to defeated. 

“We really do” He said, feeling awkward and out of place and all of a sudden too far away from her. He didn’t know what to do in that moment, resorting to just stuffing his hands in his pockets and swaying a little on his heels. 

She patted the spot next to her, a universal symbol of needing contact, of a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen. He made the jump easy enough, slowly lowering himself onto the ledge next to her. 

He was cautious of the distance between them, making sure to leave as much gap as possible. The last thing he wanted to do right now was make her feel uncomfortable. 

“Do you have siblings?” She asked softly, like she was scared someone else would hear her. No one was allowed to see her like this, not again. But Bucky? The man that the world hated? He could see her like this, she thought. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“I had a sister, Rebecca. She passed away when she was young” He said, turning to look at her slightly. 

In truth, his sister had died of old age, surrounded by her family, her kids, her grandchildren and their children after that. Everyone except him. To him, she would always remain a tender fifteen-year-old girl. To her, he was the big brother that died a hero, the brother that left one day and never came home. 

She closed her eyes as she listened, nodding slightly as tears began to fall down her cheek once again. She reached out, resting her hand on his knee weakly. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew exactly what she was trying to say.

He looked at her hand and considered slipping off his glove, letting his bare fingers wander across her palm. He wanted to trace the scars, reading the years of stories carved across her wrists like scripture. He wanted to interlock his fingers with hers, listen to her heartbeat through her soft skin. He knew he couldn’t, but he let himself picture it, even if just for a second. 

“Did you two ever fight?” She asked warily, clearly afraid of stepping too far. Bucky could almost feel her heartbeat through his jeans, and it was racing. 

“Sometimes” He said. He couldn’t remember anything specific about his childhood with his sister, but he knew there must have been times they fought. Since he had gained some of his memories back, he had been lucky enough to only remember the good parts of her. 

“Then maybe you know what it feels like to have the person you love the most in the world resent you” She said after a few moments of silence, the air between them thick and heavy. She stared straight ahead at something Bucky couldn’t see. The sadness lacing her voice was almost enough to drown in. 

“What happened?” He asked warily, scared of the answer he might receive. She sighed a little, head coming to rest on his shoulder. 

He could feel the warmth of her cheek seeping through his clothes, filling his chest and lungs and heart and shoes. It made his palms sweat beneath his gloves, the skin on the back of his neck warming. 

“My sister called me on the way home from work” She said, tone turning serious. He felt intrusive asking her about this, but he knew she would have turned him away by now otherwise. 

“Did you have a fight?” He asked, taking her silence as permission to continue digging deeper. 

He pictured her in a fight, a physical one. He imagined her kicking and punching and screaming, trying desperately to keep herself alive. 

He imagined his hands around her throat, her fingernails scratching at his wrists in the nightmare that was still too fresh in his mind. The memory of it made his skin crawl. You killed her, remember?

She shook her head, saying no. He let the answer hang in the air a little longer, trying to give her a chance to change her mind on telling him this, on letting him see this delicate moment up close. But she was straightforward, he had come to realise that at least. When she wanted you around, when she wanted you to know something, you’d know it. 

“Then why do you think she resents you?” He asked. She kept her head forward, eyes welling with fresh tears as the old continued to fall down her cheek, leaving a little puddle on the shoulder of his jacket. 

“It’s the way she says my name, in this tone like it physically pains her to say it” 

“She never asks how life in the Netherlands is going. Never asks about work or my apartment or if I’m making friends” She pushed back the lump in her throat and continued. 

“And when I ask about home, it’s like I can hear her screaming the same thing, every single time ‘if you were here…”

“I think the worst part is that she refuses to talk about mum, even when I’m practically begging her to. When I really need her to say something, say anything about her, she doesn’t say a word” 

“I’m trying so hard to keep the relationship between us the same as it used to be, but I can feel it fading away” 

“I don’t think I’m her sister anymore” She whispered. 

She spoke with such fragility that he was scared to say a word in return, fearing that even a strong breeze could shatter her, make her skin turn to broken glass. Pieces he wasn’t sure he’d be able to put back together. 

So instead, he simply slipped off his glove and reached out, desperate to hold her steady. 

Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Fingers intertwined.


	41. Golden, Caramel Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long with this update. this one is definitely up there as one of my favourite chapters so id love to hear some opinions! stay safe and be kind x

It was around nine pm by the time Bucky crawled back through his window into the dark stillness of his apartment. He stripped down, fumbling his way across the apartment, jumping from shadow to shadow till he landed with a thud on the overly-soft mattress. He could sleep on concrete and still think it was too soft. 

He looked up, watching the moonlight dance across the ceiling in waves. Beautiful, fluid arcs stretching and expanding. Light against darkness. It reminded him of her. Everything did now. 

He found the more time he spent with her, the easier it became to sleep. Nightmares had become less and less frequent, less violent. The idea of sleep didn’t make his hands shake anymore.

Still, more times than not, he would find himself like this, lying awake for hours, eyes on the ceiling above him, mind running back to the memories of her. 

\--

They watched as the birds flew overhead, their figures casting shadows as they fluttered in front of the lowering sun. They sat there for what felt like hours, fingers linked, cheeks still on shoulders, hearts beating in rhythm.

Tara had stopped crying long ago. Bucky couldn’t feel his legs anymore, numb from the lack of motion, but he didn’t care. He thought maybe this is what calm felt like, smelt like. She wondered if this was what peace looks like now. 

The wind had started to grow cold on the fire escape as the sun retreated behind the horizon, making them recoil into the warmth of her living room. 

After settling down on the couch, warm tea in a raccoon mug in hand, he looked over to her, finding her deep eyes staring back at him already. He raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He asked curiously. He tried to play it off as nothing, but there was a familiar voice in the back of his head, repeating the same words over and over again. Run, run, run. 

She squinted at him a little, tilting her head slightly and eyeing him up and down. She was reading him like one of the tattered books she kept on the coffee table. 

“Just trying to figure out how old you are” She said, tone serious. 

She had done her research, she knew exactly how old he technically was, but as for his body? It would all depend on how long they decided to keep him out of stasis. 

She felt her skin crawl at the idea of him just stuck there, in some dark basement, in the middle of nowhere, just waiting for someone to wake him up. Death would be better than that, she told herself. 

“Take a guess” He quipped back, his voice lighter, more at ease. The little voice in the back of his head had faded away to nothing but a dull whisper now. 

“Maybe… twenty-five?” She said, after pondering on the thought for a few moments. She looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. Yeah, give or take eighty years maybe, he thought to himself.

Bucky was thankful for the time she was lost in thought, using it as a chance to think about what lie he would tell. If he was being honest with himself, he had no idea how old he was exactly. He knew he died when he was twenty-six, that much he gathered from the museum back in the states. 

But how old was his body now? How long did they let him wander around, confused and angry and covered in blood? How many times did they wake him up only to fight, to murder, to kill. 

“You’re close, I’m twenty-eight. I’ll be twenty-nine in March” He replied, confident with the believability of his lie. He hated lying to her like this, but it was for the best. The less she knew, the safer she would be. 

“Well, well, well someone’s getting old. Here I am, just a little twenty-three-year-old trying to become best friends with an old, old man” She shot back, making sure to emphasis his age. He laughed, picturing her face if she knew how old he really was. 

“Hey now, twenty-eight isn’t that old and you know it” He said, crossing his arms defensively, shooting her a look of faux annoyance.

“Please you’re practically a dad. You’re probably going to settle down soon with some hot young brunette, pop out a few little ones, get a mortgage, maybe a dog” She said, taking a sip of her tea, shooting him a serious look over the brim of the mug. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of irritation in her voice as she spoke. It sounded a lot like jealously. 

“I wouldn’t go that far. For starters, I prefer blondes” He said, staring straight into her eyes. She felt her heart start to race, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. The way he was looking at her, it was hard not to think too far into his words. Deep down he was hoping she would. 

She could feel the silence between them getting thicker and thicker, the air around them starting to become too hard to breathe in. She needed to break the dense stillness. 

“What about children? Do you think you’ll ever want kids?” She said as light-heartedly as she could muster. She took a sip of her drink, studying his face intently before realising how stupid she was for bringing up a topic like that. 

“Oh God, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t pry like that” She said quickly, waving her hands as a way to push past the topic, encouraging him to forget her words. 

“No, it’s okay. I haven’t put too much thought into it really. I don’t think I’d be very good at it” He said lowly, trying to block out the voices in his head. 

He had thought about it, more than he wanted to confess, especially to himself. In his low moments, right before the nightmares would begin again, he would sometimes picture her, sitting on the grass in a field somewhere, baby wrapped up in her arms. Chubby cheeks, bright blue eyes and golden, caramel hair. 

His child. Someone he could never harm. The child he always dreamed of and pretended to forget the next morning if not to only preserve the last of his sanity. He knew if he allowed himself to picture a life with her, he was dooming any future she had. 

“If it means anything Buck, I think you’d make a great father” She said after a beat, eyes shining back at him, eyes kind and sympathetic. If she had any inkling of the lie, she hid it well, he thought. 

“What about you? Do you want a family?” He said, clearing his voice and looking down at his hands. He didn’t know which answer he wanted to hear from her, but either way it frightened him. Either way his dreams would be shattered. 

“Yeah, I do. Probably not yet, but one day. I need to find someone to fall in love with me first, that’s my real issue” She said. The words came out playful enough, but he could feel the sadness bubbling underneath the surface. 

“Why is that an issue” He said, a look of genuine confusion plastered across his face. Looking at her, he couldn’t understand how no one had fallen in love with her before this moment. Maybe someone has. 

“Well, look at me” She said, hands waving across her body slowly. He continued to look at her puzzled as he took a sip of his drink, not seeing whatever it was she thought she could see. 

“I’m not exactly a man’s wet dream over here” She continued, voice laced with self-disgust, accent coming out thick and heavy in the way most things did with her. He almost spits out his tea, eyes going wide and smirk flashing across his face.

As he wiped the liquid off his top lip, he realised she was serious, the look in her eyes almost painful to see, despite the fake smile she had plastered on her lips. 

“I think you’re beautiful” He said before he could stop himself. Her expression remained calm, but he could see a flash of something cross her face, eyes getting a little wider, a little more alive. He felt his skin run hot, the back of his neck burning in a way that had become reserved for her. 

“Thank you, Buck,” She said, giving him a weak smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. He could tell she didn’t believe him, not for a second. 

It left a burning feeling in his chest and ash in his lungs. 

\--

Bucky closed his eyes, letting himself relax more into the mattress. As he felt sleep begin to pull him under, he could hear her words, loud and clear against the silence. A lullaby sung only to him. 

“I think you’d make a great father”


	42. Train Approaching in The Distance

Against either of their hardest efforts, they managed to avoid each other for the next five days. Tara had wandered out to the fire escape each afternoon, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, only to find closed curtains and a cold breeze. 

Bucky had wanted to see Tara sooner, but as they reached the middle of October and Christmas began to approach, his workload had doubled. He had been stuck at work the better part of every afternoon and night all week, finally coming home around five am only to throw himself down and fight through nightmares on the way to sleep. 

Now, as he approached his apartment on Saturday morning, the sun beginning to filter through the buildings around him and paint the street, he saw her coming down the staircase. 

They froze for a second till the other registered in their memory, both growing up programmed to be cautious of shadows in the dark. She smiled, skipping over to him slightly. As they got closer, they both spoke in unison.

“We have to stop meeting like this” They said, smiles lighting up their faces. Tara giggled, eyes shining back at him in the morning light. 

“Just finished work I assume?” She asked. He nodding in reply and watching as she shoved her hands into the pocket of her jumper. She shifted a little, moving back and forth on her feet to keep herself warm in the chilly morning air. He noticed her clothes then, warm jumper, skin tight pants and running shoes. 

“The more important question is what are you doing out here so early?” He asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously, eyes looking her up and down. 

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d go for a walk” She said, eyes not meeting his for a moment as she spoke. He knew there was more to the story, but he didn’t pry. He knew her enough now to realise that she told him what he needed to know, nothing more. 

“Would you like to join me?” She asked as the idea popped into her head, eyes bright with excitement. She scolded herself internally, scared she had come across as too eager. 

“Oh God, no I’m sorry. You’ve just finished work I’m sure you’re exhausted” She said as she started to move past him. The tone in her voice sounded so defeated. He gently grabbed her wrist to stop her, turning a little to meet her eyes. 

She felt so close to him, barely a step apart from one another. She could feel his breathe against her cheek, warm and inviting. All she had to do was reach up, lean forward and …

“I’ll just go put my stuff down. Wait here for me” He said, before he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

Tara couldn’t stop moving, shifting from side to side on her heels, clenching and unclenching her fists in the pocket of her jumper. She thought maybe she was just cold, standing out there in the winter breeze, but she knew what it was. He made her nervous. 

A moment later and she was joined again by Bucky, who had snuck up behind her, making her practically jump out of her skin. 

“Fuck mate, I knew it was you and you still got me. You need some heavier boots. Or a bell” She said, words coming out rushed and breathless while she kept a hand over her heart. 

“A bell would take away all the suspense” He said through a smile, giggling a little at the theatrics of it all, imaging himself try to take down a HYDRA agent, bell jingling around his ankle. 

They began walking down the street, towards the coastline. Bucky was taken back to the first time they walked this path together. He remembers the panic seeping through him, through his skin and into his clothes. He remembers the second time they walked this path. Bodies a little bit closer, words a little more important. He remembers the darkness keeping them safe. 

“So, how was work?” She asked after a moment of comfortable silence. She turned to look at him slightly, seeing the exhaustion on his face. She felt a pang of guilt hit her chest, but she pushed it down as best she could. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be.

“Busy. Getting closer to Christmas so it’s starting to pick-up” He said, words coming out in a huff. He didn’t have to look at her to notice how close they were walking. He could almost feel the warmth radiating off her as they walked, shoulders so close, fingers almost touching. 

“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” She said a little warily, not wanting to remind him of everything he’s lost, everything he’s tried so hard to forget. 

“No. I’ll probably spend the day sleeping. Might volunteer to work a shift or two” He said, hanging his head a little as he spoke. 

The image of Bucky sitting alone in his apartment while the world around him celebrated, broke Tara’s heart. She felt tears begin to well in the corners of her eyes and the words came out before she could stop herself.

“Well, you can always spend Christmas with me? I know it won’t be the same as spending it with family. It’ll be my first Christmas without my sister and…”

She trailed off, leaving the mentions of dead mothers unspoken, hanging in the air between them. He looked at her, noticing the tears threatening to fall. Maybe having some company wouldn’t be so bad. 

“I would love to” He said wholeheartedly, the smile of her face practically beaming. She stopped in her tracks, turning to him and enveloping him in a hug, arms thrown up over his broad shoulders. It took him a moment to let it all in, snaking his still human arm around her waist. She smelled of apples and sleep and tea. 

“Thank you” She whispered, the words muffled by his jacket. She gripped him a little tighter before letting go and turning back towards the coast. 

He stood there for a just a second longer, feeling her words echo throughout his chest, like the vibrations of a train approaching in the distance.


	43. If This Is All I Ever Have, Then It's Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! thank you all so much for continuing to read this even though it seems like I've given up! I've been battling some illness and working like crazy since recovering so this has really been thrown to the back burner. Even still, checking every fews days and seeing my read count go up fills my heart with so much happiness and joy - all thanks to each and every person who has taken the time to bother with this word vomit. You are all gems!!! 
> 
> trigger warning - some very brief mentions of abuse (parental) but nothing overly specific

They reached the coast rather quickly without the usual crowds and traffic to compete with, finding a bench at the far end of the boardwalk. They sat down, thighs slightly touching as Tara leaned back against the seat, hands clenched nervously in her lap. 

He could feel the warmth radiating through her clothes and bleeding into his skin. Even in the cold Winter air, she was still a burning flame that refused to go out. He never felt cold when she was around. 

“What’s your earliest memory?” Tara asks suddenly, words coming out before her mind has a second to process them. 

She turned slightly to look at Bucky and realised what she had said, mind flashing back to the articles she had found. The things they had done to him, the things they had made him do, the things they had made him forget. The things he couldn’t. 

Tears started to prick at the corner of her eyes, forcing her to pull her focus away from him, watching the dark ocean in front of them instead, moonlight dancing across the ripples on the surface. 

“Sitting in the kitchen while my mother made breakfast. I was probably about eight or nine at the time and I remember my mother was pregnant with my little sister” He continued, clearing his throat a little, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest as he spoke of loved ones long gone. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust in his lungs. 

“Even in that state, ya know, nine months pregnant and all, she was still one of the most elegant and graceful people I’ve ever seen” He said, eyes remaining forward, focusing on something in the distance Tara couldn’t see.

“It sounds like she was an amazing woman” She said sympathetically. 

She can picture Bucky, small and naïve and full of joy, watching his mother from across the room with a kind of wonder that must be long lost to him by now. She wished she had a chance to meet her. To thank her. To tell her it would all be okay. That her little boy was never lost, even if he thought so. 

“Yeah. She was” He replied, nodding slowly. He didn’t turn to look at her, instead just continuing to look off into the distance, mind wandering for a moment in his own grainy memories. 

“The earliest memory that I choose to recall is probably my first day of school. My mum had me pose with my giant school bag in the backyard for photos” She giggled a little to herself, before continuing. 

“She used to love doing our hair for school. Every single morning of primary school she’d drag my sister and I into the living room and braid our hair” She said, turning to look at him slightly, cautious of the tears threatening to spill over. 

They sat in silence for a moment, breathing in the salt air, listening to the gentle sounds of water splashing against the weather supports of the pier. Bucky turned to look at her, catching her eyes. Even in this low light, with only the moon there to cast shadows, they shone brighter than anything else. 

He tried to ignore the words ‘choose to recall’, hoping to wash it away with the tide. He knew there was something there, sitting at the surface of her memories that she had to push past every time she needed to go back and find something. He knew it was none of his business, but he wished it was. 

He pictured her on her first day of school, sun-bleached hair braided into soft pigtails. He smiled and she smiled back like a reflex. Like it was natural for them now. 

“Did you enjoy school?” He asked, eyes staying locked with hers this time. No hiding anymore, he thought. 

“Mostly. It was hard being the overweight girl that no one wanted to be around. I was bullied sometimes but it could have been much worse. I was lucky that I had a lot of friends” 

“Grades wise, I did okay. Overall, nothing spectacular. Nothing worth missing” She said, with an air of regret in her voice. The thought of people hurting her, bullying her, made his skin crawl. Or maybe it was the way she spoke of herself that made his fists clench at his sides.

“I really doubt you were the overweight girl that no one wanted to be around” He said maybe a little too quickly than necessary. She gave him a weak smile, looking down at her hands as she picked at her nails. 

“You haven’t seen the school photos” She said cheerily, failing to come across as nonchalant. 

It was clear they were memories she tried to forget. He wondered how many of those she had. If she knew how lucky she was to have memories to forget in the first place. 

“Did you have any other siblings? Apart from Rebecca” She asked, voice laced with caution, clearly wanting to steer the topic of discussion away from herself.

“No, just her. My mother always wanted a small family. What about you?” He replied. 

In truth, he didn’t know. He left for the war when his sister was fifteen and his mother was still young enough to have more children. He pictured his mother grieving the loss of her son and couldn’t imagine her wanting to replace him with another. 

“I have a half-brother from my father’s first marriage, but I rarely speak to him. I’m glad I had my sister growing up though. She kept me sane” She said. She turned a little in her seat, facing more towards him, their knees touching, hands dangerously close. 

“Did you get along with your parents?” Tara asked. She knew these were cruel, punishing questions to ask him, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to know everything he could remember. She wanted to help him fill in the blanks. 

“For the most part. I got on with my mother like a house of fire. We were similar people I think. Same sense of humor, same morals, same interests. My father though…not always so great” He replied honestly, looking down at his clenched hands before looking back at her. Her eyes were wide in surprise. 

It was still a shock to hear this kind of openness from him. A few months ago, he could barely look her in the eyes, and now this. Now they were sitting on a bench, in public, limb against limb, looking at each other like nothing else mattered than right then and there. 

“Yeah I can understand that. I was always touch and go with my mother, but my father on the other hand, we just didn’t gel. I still don’t know if we were too different or exactly the same” 

“After my parents separated, he became a different person. Cruel, violent, vindictive. He would say horrible things, do horrible things. Get drunk, trash the house, kick me out for days at a time just because he could. Just because he felt like it” She continued, swallowing deeply.

“Looking back at it now, I think it’s because I look so much my like mother and that maybe I act like her too. He saw too much of her in me to handle. After that, he wasn’t my father anymore” 

“When I moved here, my mother and I couldn’t be closer. She was the only parent I had left” Tara took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second longer than usual. It was clear she was on the verge of tears, voice cracking as she spoke. 

There were a lot of things Bucky wanted to say, but they all died on his lips, all unworthy to offer up to her. Instead, he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, reached out his hand and grabbed hers from her lap. 

She was warm, as always. She looked at him, tears streaking down her face and he watched her pained eyes melt down to relaxed, to peaceful. She wanted to lean forward, to connect their lips and never let go. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, over his chest, across his arms, the scars, the battle wounds, his heart, all the broken places those people created. 

Instead, she put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt him relax under her touch, felt the warmth of his skin through his coat. 

If this is all I ever have, then it’s enough, she thought.


	44. Cold Shiver

It was an hour later that they decided to head back. The sun was starting to come into its full glory, bringing with it the locals willing to brave the cold ocean breeze. 

Tara moved quickly through the early morning crowds, people starting to file into coffee shops and cafes, and Bucky appreciated it more then he could ever tell her, more than she could ever know. 

He was becoming more comfortable here in Hoek Van Holland, but he still couldn’t trust this town. He didn’t know who might recognise him, who might be working for who. He knew he was only one wrong move, one false trust away from having his brain stripped into a million pieces. No guarantee it would ever be weaved back together the same, or woven together at all. 

They were walking close, hands brushing slightly as they marched on. It was a stark contrast to the first time they walked this street together. A passerby could assume they were strangers, but now, now Bucky wondered if looked like friends. He wondered if maybe they thought they were more than that. 

They were a block away from the apartment when Tara turned to him. He looked at her, watching the way the morning light danced through her golden hair, flowing over her shoulders, the way it dripped over her like liquid. Maybe drowning wouldn’t be such a bad way to go? He wondered. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” She asked excitedly. She was trying to hide her enthusiasm, but she knew it was futile with him around. He was one of the best spies in the world, she knew this man could read her like a book. 

“No I don’t. Why?” He replied, albeit a little cautious. He wasn’t the type to welcome plans he didn’t make. His brain started to run through all the possibly life threatening scenarios, but he stopped himself. 

You can trust her, remember? 

“I need to do some art supply shopping and I was wondering if you’d like to join me? I have a lot of heavy materials to get and honestly I could use your muscles” She said, skipping a little as they reached the bottom of the fire escape stairs. 

“Tara… I don’t know” He said lowly. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but the risk was too high. If he was spotted on public transp-

“Don’t worry. No public transport, no unplanned stops. We’ll drive there, pick up the order, and be back before you know it” She said as she climbed the stairs in front of him. 

The way she kept turning back to look at him as she spoke made him nervous that she was seconds from falling. He kept his metal arm out slightly behind her back, palm outstretched, ready to catch. She didn’t even notice. 

“You never told me you had a car?” He questioned. He tried to think back in case she had mentioned it and he had forgotten, but he was sure she hadn’t. Knowing a car and keys were close by was valuable for a quick escape when the time came. He would have remembered. 

“You never asked” She replied cheekily, glancing over her shoulder and giving him a smirk. They reached the top of the stairs and Tara leaned against the wall. Bucky took the lead and leaned against the rail across from her. 

“So, what do you say? Please come with me. It’ll be fun, I promise” She begged, bringing her hands up into the praying position. He glanced at her wrists and saw the scars poke out from under her clothes. It sent a cold shiver down Bucky’s spine. If I go with her, I know she’s safe…

“Okay, fine! Just no more begging” He said, watching her as she practically beamed at him, smile as bright as the sun. It was beautiful.

“Thank you, thank you! Meet me here at nine am, okay?” She asked, eyebrows raised. He nodded in agreement, pushing himself off the ledge. 

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, purposefully leaving it open ended. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see her again today. 

“Yes of course. Go get some rest. Thank you for coming with me this morning. I always like spending time with you” She said, giving him a small smile, cheeks reddening with the admission. He smiled back before turning and jumping over to his landing. 

He turned and waved goodbye, watching as she retreated into her apartment. 

It felt like watching the sun set. Watching it retreat away for another day and taking all the light with it. All the warmth. All of the clarity. 

\--

He laid in bed that night, the earlier talk of Christmas still lingering in his mind. 

Before he knew it, before he had a chance to stop himself, he was picturing it. He pictured himself sitting on the floor with his children, watching them rip into the brightly coloured Christmas paper, eyes wide and full of excitement. 

He would look around the room, seeing the decorations strewn everywhere Tara could reach. The family photos on the wall, the fresh flowers in the vase on the coffee table, the children’s drawings above the fireplace, the Australian sheppard dog dozing off in the corner. 

He could see the ocean through the windows and smell the sea salt in the air, tasting it faintly on his lips. He could see the summer storm approaching in the distance, the sound of waves crashing in its wake. She had told him once before that it was her idea of the perfect storm, her perfect kind of Christmas.

He would look over to her, sitting on the floor beside him, a vision of those days on the fire escape. She was beautiful then and she was still beautiful now. 

He fell asleep peacefully, listening to the gentle music billowing from her windows, the tender hums of her voice. 

“When the night has come  
And the land is dark  
And the moon is the only light we'll see  
No, I won't be afraid  
Oh, I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand  
Stand by me

So darlin', darlin'  
Stand by me, oh, stand by me  
Oh, stand, stand by me  
Stand by me

If the sky that we look upon  
Should tumble and fall  
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea  
I won't cry, I won't cry  
No, I won't shed a tear  
Just as long as you stand  
Stand by me

And darlin', darlin'  
Stand by me, oh, stand by me  
Oh, stand now, stand by me  
Stand by me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stand By Me - Ben E King


	45. The Sea During A Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been almost a month of me slacking off (not true, just working too much) so I thought id finally update.   
I hope there are still people reading this :( stay safe everyone!!
> 
> here is a link to my spotify playlist for this fic if anyone is interested!! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JaS96tw53m9TXLmucP9Z7?si=z_l8cuUPTtuAmgVy7HpoFQ

Tara was nervously playing with her hair on Sunday morning, switching anxiously between hairstyles. She wasn’t the type of person to worry about how she looked, usually opting to leave her hair out in its natural waves. No makeup, no fuss. Just a regular day. 

But today didn’t feel like a regular day. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, today was a day that could mean something. Something important.

She dropped her hair in frustration, deciding to just let it flow out naturally, messy curls and all. It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t seen her like this before, she told herself in hopes of calming her nerves. 

She finished getting ready, throwing on her favourite jeans and white t-shirt before grabbing her wallet and keys from the kitchen island. She threw a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall and checking the time. Eight-fifty-seven. 

She turned, checking her hair in the mirror by the front door, giving herself one last look. She stared at herself for a while, making sure her scars weren’t visible under her sleeve. She pushed back a few rogue curls behind her ear before heading towards the fire escape. 

She froze for a second, noticing Bucky was already waiting for her. He was wearing a dark red shirt, black denim jacket and dark, almost black jeans. He was leaning against the rail of the landing, thick, muscle covered arms crossed over his chest. 

When he dressed like this, she could really see the solider simmering away just underneath the surface. The man of stone, of muscle, of unwavering protection. The soldier anticipating orders. 

“How long have you been waiting?” She asked as she stepped out onto the landing, suddenly well aware that he could have noticed her checking her scars in the mirror. He gave her a cheeky smile, making her heart burst a little at the seams, feeling any anxiety she still had melt away. 

“Not long at all” He said, trying to sound believable as he ushered for her to lead the way down the fire escape stairs. In reality, he had been waiting for twenty minutes, too fearful of making her wait around for him. He wondered if maybe that was just a relic of his past, his generations chivalry remerging in his memory. Perhaps it was just his way of making sure she was safe.

He watched her cautiously as she walked down the steps, keeping his metal arm close in case he needed to catch her on the unsteady staircase. He took the chance to look at her. To really look at her. 

If she was talking to him, he didn’t know it. He was too distracted in the way she carried herself, in the way her hair floated in the breeze, loose waves swirling down her back, across her shoulders. The way she would tuck her curls behind her ear. The black gemstone ring on her finger. The way her jeans hugged her figure in a way he pretended not to notice. 

When they reached the bottom, she lead him to the parking garage under her building. He looked around at the other cars as they walk along the row, wondering which one is hers. 

As they walked further and further towards the back of the carpark, he could feel a hint of panic start in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to trust her, but fear was a hard habit to break. Suddenly, she stops in front of the car he least expected to be hers.

“Wait, this is yours?” He asked, eyes wide with shock upon seeing the old Jeep parked in front of him. She walked over to the driver’s side door, smile beaming back at him. 

“Yeah, of course” She said casually, like it meant nothing, like her owning a car like this, something so familiar to him in a way he couldn’t explain yet, was nothing. She unlocked the car, swinging open the heavy metal door and looked back to him. He was still standing in place, eyes glancing over the vehicle in confusion. 

“So, are you coming with me or what?” She asked, cheeky smirk plastered across her lips, eyebrow raised. He didn’t hesitate, drowning out the voice in the back of his head and the fire in his stomach as he jumped into the passenger seat. 

He sat there, closing his eyes for a second and basking in the familiarity of it all. This was something he knew, even if it wasn’t a memory he recognised completely. 

All he knew was that this was something that tied him to home. Tied him to his life with his best friend. To a life lost decades ago, lingering memories covered with dust and time and fog 

It felt like swimming in the sea during a storm. 

Chaos, chaos, calm.


	46. La Vie En Rose

As they weaved their way through the back streets towards the highway, Tara reached for her phone sitting the center console, handing it to Bucky. 

“Open up Spotify and press shuffle. My usual playlist should be still up” She said, handing him the device. He sat up a little straighter, taking him eyes off the streets signs he had been watching so intently. 

He hadn’t noticed at first, but he had been tracking their route, running plans in his head for an easy escape if they needed it. He was thankful for all the nights he had spent wandering the streets of Hoek Van Holland, committing street names to memory, places to avoid, places to hide. 

He looked at the device awkwardly, a little unsure of what to do. He had seen these phones everywhere, but still had never used one. He wasn’t sure how trustworthy they were, but he knew they weren’t secure. Not worth the risk.

He pressed the button on the screen, searching intently through the icons till he found the one she requested. It opened a list of music he didn’t recognise and he pressed shuffle, a little taken aback by how quickly the music started playing from the car speakers.

She watched him in awe from the corner of her eye, noticing how long it took him to find the music. It was endearing, seeing him around technology like this that must be so alien to him. She noticed it, but she didn’t mention it. 

He looked back at the window, checking the street signs and making a mental note of how far from home they were. He kept his eyes out the window and his ears on the music. 

“So, did you bring the car over from Australia?” He asked out of nowhere, making Tara jump ever so slightly. She wondered if he noticed but she knew better than that. He noticed everything. 

“No, I bought it when I first moved. I used to love driving back home and when I came here, I really missed it. I told myself I wasn’t going to buy a new car, but I caved as soon as I saw this” She continued. 

“I always wanted a car like this so I might take it home with me when I go back” She said, hands tightening on the steering wheel as she mentioned going back to Australia. 

He watched her tense up, knowing it was still a hard topic for her. He knew she was scared to leave behind the memories of her mother, but he wondered if maybe there was something more. He wondered if maybe there would be something or someone waiting for her that she was hiding from. 

“Where did you find this car? I haven’t seen one like this in … a long time” He asked as they crossed the bridge at Vlaardingen, watching as the river opened up underneath them, Rotterdam growing smaller in the distance as they drove south. 

“A rich German I tracked down in The Hague. He told me it was kept in the Netherlands as their ‘holiday car’ for whenever they’d visit from Germany, which turned out to be not that often” She continued. 

“It seemed like it had been sitting there since not long after the war. Barely any kilometers on the thing and she still runs like a dream.” She said with a wide smile. 

“He said his country was flooded with them after the Americans came through during World War II. You couldn’t walk down the street without seeing a handful of them apparently” She said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze steady on something in the distance. 

“I guess everyone wanted to drive around looking like their heroes” She said sincerely, eyes on the road ahead. He glanced over to her, studying her face intently for a moment. He wondered if maybe she knew more than she was telling him. 

“I guess so” He said, pushing the theory away from his mind. If Tara had figured out his past, she would have done something by now. She would have told someone. He wouldn’t be sitting here in her car, spending time in her home, in her life, if she knew the truth. He knew she was smarter than that. 

They drove for a while longer, still heading south towards Belgium. He wasn’t sure how far away this art store was, but he hoped it was close. The longer he spent outdoors like this, the harder it felt to breathe, to focus on anything other than what comes after he’s captured. 

He listened intently to each song that came around the stereo after that, drinking in the lyrics like she drank in the sunshine. He tried to take note of the names of the songs he particularly liked, the ones she reacted to the most. 

“When you press me to your heart  
I'm in a world apart  
A world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels, sing from above  
Everyday dead words seem  
To turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me  
And life will always be  
La vie en rose”

A song came on through the speakers and Tara physically flinched. It looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin, the hand resting in her lap clenching into a fist, the one of the steering wheel tightening, knuckles white. 

“I am sailin-“

“Can you change the song please?” She asked quickly, the urgency in her tone taking Bucky by surprise. He fumbled with the phone sitting in the centre console, overly cautious of not breaking the thing with his metal hand.

He quickly pressed the ‘next’ arrow, looking over at Tara expectantly, eyebrow raised. 

“Thank you” She said, eyes meeting him for a moment before looking back out onto the open road in front of them. It was only quick, but he could see the apology written all over her face. 

They sat in silence for a while, letting the music fill the empty spaces of the car. Bucky watched the trees pass outside, road signs streaking across his view. 

“That was my mother’s favourite song” Tara said after what felt like hours. He looked back towards her, noticing a few tears slither down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Tara. I really am” He said as she looked into his eyes for a brief moment. They were pained and glassy, more tears threatening to spill. 

“It’s okay. I haven’t been able to listen to it since… you know. Since everything happened. Guess I haven’t even had the guts to delete it off the playlist” She continued, laughing sadly at herself, voice laced in self-loathing. 

He watched her for a while, noticing the way she scrunched her nose to stop herself from crying. He wished she would look at him, to see if she was okay, but she kept her gaze focused on the horizon. 

They continued driving for another thirty minutes, chatting aimlessly about their workplaces, their co-workers, their first pets, their favourite type of ice cream. 

“Oh c’mon, no one under the age of fifty likes rum and raisin!” Tara exclaimed, smacking the steering wheel playfully and shooting Bucky a shocked sideways glance. 

“Hey now, rum and raisin is a perfectly respectable ice cream. Don’t shit on rum and raisin” He said, laughing deeply, hands raised in self-defense. It shouldn’t be so funny to him, but it was. Fifty-years-old had come and gone a long time ago, he thought. 

“What a waste mate, what a waste…” She said sarcastically, punching his thigh lightly when she looked over and saw his shit-eating grin. 

It was around this time that Bucky looked back out the window and saw it, ‘Woensdrecht Air Base’. He knew that name, he recognised it from the war. He couldn’t recall when or why he was there, but he remembers flying in to that military base. 

He remembers the shooting, the smell of gun powder, the blood. He remembers Steve, standing tall and stoic among the local men, the men who had lost their comrades, their families, their homes and nearly their country. 

That’s when he realised just how close to the border they were. He felt his blood run cold. This was it, he thought. It’s over.

“Tara… where are we going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres my monthly update - fuck I'm so slow at this. hope this isn't complete trash xx


	47. België

Tara looked over to the passenger seat and was met by wide, panicked eyes. The eyes of a lost child searching for their parent. The eyes of a soldier stuck in the middle of the enemy line. The eyes of someone who knows what’s about to happen and that there’s nothing they can do to stop it. 

“The art store, remember?” She said casually, trying to play it off. She flicked her gaze back and forth from him and the road ahead. She knew he wasn’t going to play this off as nothing.

“Tara. Where are we going?” He repeated sternly, voice threatening and solid. She had never heard Bucky talk like this, never heard this kind of seriousness come out of him. Deep down, it scared her a little.

“Look don’t freak out… but the store is in Belgium” She said slowly, trying to keep the situation as calm as possible. She knew this was going to happen, but she just hoped it wasn’t going to happen so soon. 

“What do you mean the stores in Belgium Tara. I can’t go to Belgium” He said, rushing his words a little. He was angry, she didn’t need to look at him to see that. She could feel it coming off him like electricity. 

“I know. I know it sounds bad but there aren’t any checkpoints at the border. No passport checks, no license scans. Nothing” She said slowly, trying to get across her point without saying what she was really thinking. 

No one will find you. No one will know who you once were. I promise. 

He kept his eyes forward, clenching and releasing his fists slowly in frustration, trying to calm himself down. He replayed her words over in his head, trying to find the lie. He wanted an excuse to distrust her, a reason to jump out of this car and out of her life. 

She’d be better off anyway, he thought. 

He wished he could have figured this out on his own. He had tried to read-up on border regulations in the past, but found that most computers come with cameras. Cameras come with facial recognition. Facial recognition comes with consequences he wasn’t ready to comprehend right now. 

“Is that really true?” He asked, tone icy and sharp. He still didn’t turn his gaze to her and she was almost grateful. She didn’t know if she could handle seeing the suspicion in his eyes. 

“Yes. I promise you Buck. I wouldn’t have invited you if that wasn’t the case” She said as assertive as she could muster. The air in the car was thick, tense with unwelcome questions. Unspoken fear. 

She wasn’t sure if he had listened between the lines of what she said. She hoped he hadn’t. She wasn’t exactly ready to have that ‘I’ve known about your history of being brainwashed to become a human weapon this entire time and I’ve been hiding it from you” conversation right now. 

They drove in silence for a while longer, inching ever so closer to the border. Bucky couldn’t pull his attention away from the road ahead. His eyes flashed across each sign they passed, watching as the kilometer count got lower and lower. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his racing heart. 

He could feel his heart beating in his ears, in his fingers, on his tongue. His palm was damp beneath his leather gloves. He rung his hands together a few times, trying to stop the shaking. He took a few deep, quiet breaths, trying to slow down the panic rising in his chest. 

When he opened his eyes again, he realised he had almost missed the main act. The centre of the show. The headliner. One unimpressive, completely insignificant sign. Blue and yellow and star. The undeniable symbol of the European Union. 

“België”

Bucky felt the air come back into his lungs again, releasing the fist he was clenching in his lap. He looked over to Tara again, noting the apprehension in her eyes as she looked at the road ahead. 

She didn’t know how he’d react now that the border was finally crossed but she hoped the heavy weight on her chest would be lifted. She hoped he would understand that he was never in danger. That she wouldn’t risk his life like that. She hoped he could trust her. 

They drove in silence for a while longer, the only sound echoing around them coming from the speakers as they spilt its music out across their laps. 

“I just hope you see me  
In a little better light  
Do you think it's easy  
Being of the jealous kind?  
'Cause I miss the shape of your lips  
Your wit  
It's just a trick  
And this is it, so I'm sorry

Don't call me "baby" again  
You got your reasons  
I know that you're tryna be friends  
I know you mean it  
But don't call me "baby" again  
It's hard for me to go home  
Be so lonely”

They drove on and Bucky could sense his previous fear start to melt away, the feeling coming back into his hands, his chest moving steady. He took a deep breath, knowing that the dangerous part was over. 

As they closed in on Antwerp, Bucky turned to Tara a little and watched her from the corner of his eye. He watched the way her blue eyes shone against the sun, darting across the road in front of them. He watched the way her delicate fingers gripped the clutch as she changed gears, winding through the outer city streets. 

“I’m sorry Tara. I shouldn’t have reacted like that” He said, so quiet she almost missed it. She glanced over to him, finding him already looking at her, regret in his eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have told you where we were going from the start. I never wanted to upset you Buck” She replied. The guilty pang she felt in her chest was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting him to see them fall. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel anymore quilt. She did this to herself. 

“Are we still friends?” She asked sheepishly, turning to look at him properly while they stopped at a red light. This was the first time since their fight that she could get a proper look at him. He still looked like he was on the verge of running, but his fists weren’t clenched anymore. That had to mean something.

“Oh, are we friends? I thought we were mere acquaintances. This is news to me” He said sarcastically, shooting Tara a smirk. She reached over and lightly punched his thigh, feeling the strong and solid muscles underneath. 

As they began driving again, he continued to watch her, in awe of the way her skin glowed in the midday sun, the lines of the car casting shadows across her face. 

He had wondered, for a moment, when she told him about their real destination, if she could be trusted. 

Deep down, he knew the answer.


	48. Smoke and Mortar

A little after ten thirty, they pulled into a parking spot behind the art store. It was in a small suburban town, a little way out of Antwerp called Schoten. It was old worldly, full of small red-brick homes, all stacked together like dominoes. The kind of homes that could stand the test of time. 

Getting out of the car, Bucky couldn’t be sure if he had ever stepped foot in Belgium during the war, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity here. Somehow, he felt at ease. He almost felt safe. 

“That parking job was horrendous” Tara sighed, a little embarrassed but mostly light-hearted. She was standing back from her car, admiring her handiwork. 

“I’ve seen worse” Bucky said, coming up next to her. They looked to one another, chuckling a little before turning and waking to the front of the building. As they rounded the corner, the town centre opened up in front of them. 

The streets were lined with spruce trees, all in their own stages of autumn. The town square was filled with voices echoing across the brick and concrete, the sounds coming from cafes and bookstores and shop fronts. All the kinds of places that made Bucky’s palms itch. 

Across the street, over the lively town square, was a large church, decorated with ornate stained glass windows. The kind of churches that are becoming harder and harder to find. It was huge, the spire in the middle reaching well above any building around it, any building in the entire town.

It reminded Tara of the kind of churches she would see on television and in textbooks, in romantic movies about lovers finding each other after being lost across Europe. While there wasn’t a religious bone in her body, she always dreamt of getting married in a church like this. Something grand to match the love story she wished she would have one day.

The image of the church in front of him brought back strange memories for Bucky. The colors in the glass, the unyielding lines and arches, the grand entryway, the cobblestone steps that seem to have lasted a lifetime. 

He felt like he had been there before, like if he remembered hard enough he could see the layout of the hall inside, of the secret cellar underneath its floorboards.

He could almost smell the smoke and mortar still hanging in the air, hear the sounds of gunships approaching in the east. 

He thought maybe he could reach out and still feel the shaking fingertips of the young Dutch woman he had met the day prior, the one he found cowering next to the bodies of her grandparents. 

“Are you okay?” Tara asked softly, conscious of the memories this kind of town might stir up in Bucky’s mind. She had done her research, she knew this town was one his army division had occupied during the war. She knew how little it had changed since then; how surreal this must all be to him. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. This place just feels…familiar” He said casually, trying to throw away any suspicion of the truth. He turned his gaze back to her, not wanting to look at that church anymore. He had seen enough the last time. 

“Yeah, it has that kind of effect. You see one church, you see them all, I guess” She said, trying to play off the seriousness behind it all. She thought about telling him the truth for a split second, but she knew that wouldn’t end well for either of them.

“C’mon, let’s get these supplies and get out of here. I’m sure you’ve got important mysterious, bad boy things to do today” She said sarcastically, giving him a smirk before turning on her heel and heading towards the store just down the block. 

He laughed, shaking his head as he followed behind her and into the store, still feeling the weight of the church behind him. 

They pushed through the bright yellow door, hearing the ding of a bell above them as they stepped inside. The entryway was dark but he could still see the paint splashed across the concrete walls, posters and photographs hanging over the top of the mess. 

They began to descend downstairs, into the basement of the building. The treads creaked something familiar and Bucky shivered, a cold jolt of panic shooting down his spine. He came to a halt as he realised how dangerous this was. 

The walls were solid and strong and most likely soundproof. This wasn’t the type of place usually filled with bright paint and canvas. This was the kind of place he knew too well. This was the dark, cold, damp basements he had dwelled in for most of his life, conscious or not. 

It felt like the walls were closing in on him, the air getting thicker. Or maybe his lungs were getting smaller but it didn’t matter because he was about to die. He was about to be trapped all over again, stuck in a constant cycle of torture, wipe, kill, darkness, repeat. Torture, wipe, kill, darkness, repeat. Torture, wipe, kill…

He felt Tara’s hand grip his wrist, fingertips touching the skin underneath his jacket so lightly but so determined and everything came back into focus. She had pulled him out just in time. He wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she did. 

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. She simply smiled up at him for the step below, giving him a small nod. She was telling him it was okay, that everything would be okay, she wasn’t going to hurt him. He understood, relaxing under her touch till the colour came back into his vision. 

They probably looked a little strange to everyone else in the store, two strangers standing in the middle of the stairs, just looking at each other, but Tara didn’t care. She’d stand in the middle of traffic, jump from a helicopter, scale the side of a train for this man, even if she didn’t know it yet. 

“You ready to flex some muscle huh? Make me look like a weak baby?” She asked playfully, eyes lit up with sarcasm and mischief. He laughed, feeling the air come back into his lungs, breathing returning to normal. 

“That won’t be a hard task, right? Just need to lift up a paintbrush or two” He said with a laugh, making Tara let go of his wrist before smacking him on the shoulder playfully.

“Ow. How can I help you now with this dislocated shoulder?” He said as he clutched at his arm dramatically, making Tara roll her eyes and turn towards the rows of paint lining the left-hand side of the room, mumbling vague threats under her breath. 

He followed closely behind her, scanning the aisles out of habit, always on guard. He watched her as she examined the wall of colours in front of them, searching for what she called ‘the perfect shade of peach’ for a work project she briefly mentioned on the car ride in. 

He took a few steps down the aisle, his eyes being drawn further down the wall. He stopped, eyes wide and searching before coming up empty, his suspicions ringing true. 

Every colour of blue imaginable and still nothing that compares to her eyes.


	49. I Think I Can Live With That

Bucky was anxious to cross the border once again. He knew now that the crossing was easy enough to make, but the risk was still high. He could have been spotted in Belgium, with a foreign army already tracking him home, to their home. 

He pushed the feeling down, focusing on his breathing as he watched the trees passing by outside. He listened to the sound of the engine roaring beneath them, the gears shifting and changing under her hand, the steady beating of her heart, the music playing over it all. 

“I will always love you how I do  
Let go of a prayer for you  
Just a sweet word  
The table is prepared for you

Wishing you Godspeed, glory  
There will be mountains you won't move  
Still I'll always be there for you  
How I do  
I let go of my claim on you  
It's a free world  
You look down on where you came from sometimes  
But you'll have this place to call home always”

“Thank you for coming with me by the way. I get kind of lonely doing this drive by myself” She said honestly, looking at him briefly before looking back to the road, embarrassed. 

“I knew you didn’t just need my muscle. You almost packed this car without me anyway” He said cheekily, shooting her a sly grin. The thought of her being lonely felt like a sharp punch to the ribs, but he pushed the feeling away. 

“Yeah, I just needed the eye candy” She said, rolling her eyes sarcastically in his direction.

“I think we both know who the eye candy is in this situation” He quipped back before realising exactly what he had said. He looked over to her and watched as her cheeks blushed the most beautiful shade of self-conscious. 

“Yes! And it’s you mate! Those big blues and that long hair” She laughed, waving her hands at him dramatically.

“I’ll bet money that you’ll be snatched up with some pretty Dutch girlfriend by the end of the month” She said, shooting a knowing look. He looked back at her with eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“I have no words, I really don’t” He said, throwing himself back against the car seat dramatically. They both fell into fits of loud laughter, Bucky watching her smile fondly from the passenger side. 

“You’ll get yourself a girl and kick me to the curb, I know it. But I mean that makes sense, I am a literal bag of trash” She said with a laugh, motioning up and down her body with her free hand. 

“That is so far from the truth” He said with an underlying tone of seriousness. He hated to hear her talk like that about herself. He wished she could see what he can. Someone caring, someone genuine, someone worth fighting for. 

“Whatever you say mate” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice. It was the kind of conversation she had been through a hundred times over with a handful of different people. Her mother, her sister, her high school friends. Past lovers who said what she wanted to hear in the moment. All people who gave up on her all too quickly. 

The thought was a sharp pain to the chest and Bucky bite his lip, stopping himself from saying what he really wanted to say. It was too soon. It was all too soon. 

\--

They drove on across the border and watched as the Dutch countryside flew past them. The music echoed out across the car, mixing and melding in with the gentle whispers of Tara’s singing. 

Bucky listened in awe at the music, at the way the styles changed so drastically between tracks. He was mesmerized that how no matter what played next, Tara knew every word, tapped along to every beat. 

‘Oh, what a night  
Late December back in sixty-three  
What a very special time for me  
As I remember what a night.

Oh, what a night  
You know I didn't even know her name  
But I was never gonna be the same  
What a lady, what a night.

“My Oma would have been three months pregnant with my mother in December 1963. The first of many children” Tara said idly, eyes still focused on the horizon. 

“How many siblings does your mother have?” Bucky asked, cautious of overstepping too far. He knew anything to do with her mother was still a hard pill to swallow. 

“Three. Two sisters and a baby brother. They would have had more children but my grandmother had a lot of issues falling pregnant. From what my mum told me, she had quite a few miscarriages” Tara said, hands gripping a little tighter on the steering wheel. 

“That must have been hard” Bucky replied softly, trying to find the right words. 

“I couldn’t imagine the pain. Losing so many children like that. The not knowing what could have been if any of them lived. Then to finally have four healthy kids, only to see your first born …” She trailed off, words stuck behind the lump in her throat. 

“Are they still married? Your grandparents I mean” He asked, trying to change the subject. 

“Yeah, together for nearly sixty years now. They got married at twenty-one and never looked back. They packed up everything they had and moved to Australia” She said. 

Bucky imagined them. He saw two young people so in love, so hopeful, that the world didn’t scare them. He felt so envious. 

“They made it work somehow, started a family, built their own home. They were some real ‘Australia dream’ material” She said, laughing. She looked over to Bucky, finding his eyes already trained on her. It made her shiver.

“Sometimes I wonder if they ever regretted getting married so young. But I guess when you know, you know” She continued, looking between him and the slowing traffic as they reached a red light. 

“Have you ever felt like that?” He asked, not daring to look away from her. 

“Felt like what?” She replied, the car coming to a stop. She turned a little in her seat, giving him her full attention. 

“Felt like you’ve met the person you want to spend your life with. The person you trust enough to move across the world for” He asked, voice low and serious, words only meant for her to hear. 

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet” She countered, giving him a sly smile. She wondered if she knew the answer. 

“What about you?” She practically whispered. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. 

She had contemplated once, if he had ever been in love before. If there was a portrait of a young brunette, sitting on the mantel in his mind. The memory of the perfect girl lost forever. The girl who grew old, thinking her first real, true love, was dead. She wondered if their love was like what she saw in movies, in old stories of war torn lovers, in her grandparents. 

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet” He whispered back, leaning in a little closer to her. 

She knew if her theory was true, he could never tell her, at least not the whole true. For now, she’d take that for what it was. 

A sliver of hope. 

\--

Before they knew it, they pulled into the garage at Tara’s building. Parking the car, Tara sighed, looking over at Bucky with a relieved expression. He raised an eyebrow at her, suddenly concerned that he had misread the whole trip, that maybe she was relieved to finally get away from him. 

“I’m really glad you came with me Buck. I hate to tell you this, but I really like spending time with you” She said, cringing a little at her own obviousness. 

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked, confused.

“Because now I won’t let you get away from me” She said, tone half joke, whole truth. 

“I think I can live with that” He replied, meeting her gaze as well, faces close. Close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, her breath on his cheek. 

There wasn’t any sarcasm, no giggles or deadpan stares. Neither wanted to admit it, but there was a sudden seriousness hanging in the air around them. An unspoken message they could both hear, loud and clear.

Please don’t leave me.


	50. I'll Be Seeing You

As they climbed the stairs with the boxes of supplies, neither of them wanted to break the comfortable silence. Tara watched in awe as Bucky managed to carry all three boxes from the car at once, leaving Tara standing there empty handed and red-faced. 

Tara unlocked the front door, ushering Bucky to drop the supplies on the dining table after moving a still damp painting from his path. Tara reached out, steadying the top box as it wobbled its way to the table top. 

The day had been a good one, one that neither of them was ready to bring an end to just yet. They stood there for a second, just looking at each other, searching the other for a sign. A sign to leave, a sign to stay. 

“Tea?” Tara asked suddenly, eyebrows raised in hopeful excitement. 

“Yes please, if you don’t mind” He replied. She nodded happily before he continued. 

“New painting?” Bucky asked, tilting his head towards the canvas she had moved to the kitchen counter. 

“Yeah. I got a little bored yesterday and just used up some old paint I had lying around” She said, walking over to the kitchen. He followed her, standing in front of her latest artwork in admiration. 

It was a mix of blues, in shades he’s not sure he had ever seen before, all swirling together, like two different oceans finally meeting. It was chaotic and calm. Loud and quiet. Pained and peaceful.

“It’s beautiful” He said, gloved fingers lightly tracing over the curves, scared that if he pressed to hard, it would shatter. That the water would flow right off the canvas, evaporating on the floor around him.

“Thank you. It’s nothing special honestly” She said, a little deflated, as she reached for the tea mugs in the upper cabinet. 

“Its most definitely not nothing” He said, turning to look at her as grabbed their two mugs from the cupboard. 

“I don’t know. Sometimes it just feels like I’m wasting time. Like nothing I do means anything” She admitted, looking straight ahead, back facing him. Bucky didn’t know what to say, didn’t know the right words to make her see how wrong she was. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be such a downer” She said, turning and shooting him a weak smile before walking over to fiddle with the kettle, trying to turn the subject away from her. 

“You aren’t a downer and you aren’t wasting time. And I know I’m not an art expert, but it means something to me, even if I am just ‘eye candy’” He said, giving her a smile so wide she could feel it through her skin.  
“You’re an idiot” She said, giving him a warm smile and throwing a tea towel at him. He ducked quickly, showing off his unnatural reflexes. She simply rolled her eyes, turning back to the kettle and preparing their drinks. 

\--

The sun was still out as they settled on the fire escape, feeling the warm rays drip through their clothes, thawing their bones. Tara rested back against the brick wall, taking a timid sip of her drink. 

As she placed it down on the window sill, she jolted in surprise. Bucky’s head whipped around so fast he thought he might have whiplash. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked frantically, quickly putting his cup down and leaning towards her, trying to see the problem, trying to protect her from something he couldn’t yet see. 

“Oh no, it’s nothing. I just remembered I had something to tell you” She said, eyes apologetic. He leaned back, relaxing into his seat a little, eyes still scanning around out of habit.

“I’m actually flying to Stockholm tomorrow!” She said, smiling widely at him with excitement. 

Bucky felt the wind get knocked out of him. It felt like there was this invisible weight sitting on his chest, getting heavier and heavier as her words sunk in. 

He swore the birds stopped chirping and the wind stopped blowing around him, just for a moment, but long enough for the colour to drain from his face. 

“Oh really? Why?” He asked, snapping out of his panic long enough to choke out a reply. 

“I’ve been asked to attend a design conference at my company’s head office” She replied happily before taking a timid sip of her steaming drink. 

“Oh wow. Congratulations, that’s amazing. How long are you gone for?” He asked, voice breaking a little towards the end. 

“Just a week. Five days at the office and the weekend to explore the city” She took another quick sip before putting it down and continuing. 

“I haven’t had a chance to travel outside of Holland since I moved here, so I’m excited to finally see a new country” She said, leaning further back into her seat, crossing her legs out in front of her. 

“I’m really happy for you Tara. Are you going by yourself?” He asked, feeling a sense of dread at the possible answer. He thought he might sleep a little better knowing she had someone there to keep an eye out for her. 

“No, I’m going with another designer. Do you remember that guy I’ve mentioned before, Finn?” She replied, voice teetering on fearful. She knew Bucky wouldn’t like this part of the plan. 

Bucky was mid sip of tea when she said his name, making him choke on his drink. He took another sip, trying to calm himself down. He felt his entire body tense up, hands clenching into a fist, almost shattering the mug in his hand. Any hope he had before of resting easy was thrown away. 

“Do you mean the guy who got aggressive with you after you turned him down? The one who practically threatened you? That Finn? Yeah, I think I remember him” He said, words coming out bitterly. 

“Yeah, that Finn” She said disappointedly, looking down at her hands as she picked at her nails, avoiding eye contact. 

“Tara…” He whispered, tone desperate. He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head up to the sky and resting it on the brick wall behind him. 

“It’ll be fine Buck, once we get to Stockholm, I can practically ignore him the entire trip” She said, pulling her legs close to her chest. He watched the clouds pass by above them, trying to focus on something else other than his shaking fists. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll text you every day, morning and night” She said, tone uplifted and hopeful, trying to lighten the mood hanging in the air right now. 

“I wish I could say yes to that, but I don’t own a phone” He said regretfully, giving her a solemn look. 

“Somehow, I knew you’d say that” She said, laughing a little, the sound alone making him finally crack a smile back. 

“I guess I really am as old as you think” He said, chuckling along with her. She giggled back over the rim of her drink and Bucky felt his body finally start to relax again. 

“Honestly Buck, I’ll be okay. Since then, he’s just been ignoring me anyway, so I might as well be on this trip alone” She said, waving her hands casually as if to wash away the conversation, onto another. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. 

She turned in her seat and picked up her phone. Bucky watched as she strolled along, before selecting a song from the list. 

As he listened to the lyrics spill out of the window and into the Winter breeze, he wondered what was really making him feel like his lungs were filling with water. 

Was it her being so far away, in a foreign country surrounded by people he couldn’t trust? Or was he fearful of being left alone again, with no tether to the person who keep his head above water?

He knew what it was, but he told himself otherwise.

“I'll be seeing you  
In every lovely summer's day  
In everything that's light and gay  
I'll always think of you that way  
I'll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new  
I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I finally hit the big chapter fifty! hope there are still some of you out there enjoying this. I'm trying to push myself to write again, so ill hopefully have another chapter again soon!


	51. Something To Keep Him Afloat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Christmas will be the one year anniversary of me posting this story. Thank you to all of you who've read even a paragraph of this trash pile I call a fanfic, I appreciate every one of you!!! happy holidays everyone and please stay safe xxx

It was bright and early Monday morning when Bucky heard a knock on his window. He shot up in bed so fast it almost made his eyes water, his vision blurring and spinning before coming back into vivid focus. 

He slowly inched his way off the bed, terrified to make a single sound. He slid up towards the top of the bed, reaching under the mattress for the loaded M9 he kept there. He pulled it from its hiding place and clicked off the safety, keeping it raised and his hands steady despite the racing in his chest. 

The knocking rang out again across the otherwise silent apartment. The noise was almost deafening. He could hear the sound echo across the room and mix with the rapid thump of his heartbeat. He stepped out of his bedroom cautiously, scanning the room weapon first, finding no one in his sparse apartment. 

Despite the looming threat, he felt calm. He took comfort in the fact that he was trained for this. This was what he was created for. He hated to admit it, but he felt at home a little. Like maybe he could live with this. 

As he walked closer to the closed window, he heard a few more knocks ring out, followed by a voice, a voice he so desperately wanted to hear in that moment. 

“Bucky, wake up!” Tara whisper-yelled, trying not to wake up any of their neighbours so early in the morning. 

He let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, letting his arms fall to his side. He quickly tracked back into the bedroom, finding a sweatshirt and beanie and tucking the gun into the back of his waist band. His metal hand instinctively found its way into his jacket pocket. 

Walking back to the window, he gingerly opened the curtains, still cautious that she might not be there on her own. 

“Guten Morgen sonnenschien” She exclaimed excitedly in German as she leant back against the guardrail of the landing. 

“Good morning Tara” He said back in English, voice raspy and filled with sleep. It was too early to attempt another language, he thought. He stepped out onto the fire escape, leaning against the wall across from her. 

“Thank god you didn’t reply in German, I only taught myself that one sentence for you” She said, laughing loudly, the smile on her face wide enough to shake anyway any fear he had. 

“Well now I know what language to speak when I need to sneak something past you” He said, giving her a cheeky smile and reaching up with his jumper covered hand to rub at the sleep in his eyes. 

“What could you possibly want to hide from me?” She said sarcastically, laughing a little under her breath. He rolled his eyes playfully and continued. 

“I thought you were heading to Sweden, what are you still doing here?” He asked, remembering her plans and feeling the dread wash over him once more. 

“Good change of the subject. Well I had something I wanted to give you, if you’re interested?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at his expectantly. 

“Tell me what it is and I’ll decide whether or not I’m interested” He said, shifting a little on his heels. He hated surprises like this. He tried not to show it, but he was nervous. 

“It’s a spare one I’m not using anymore. Still connected to my Wi-Fi so you can use the internet if you like” She replied, pulling a mobile phone and charger out of her back pocket and handing it to Bucky. He reached for it cautiously, turning it over in his flesh hand. 

“Tara…” He started, trying to think of the best way to turn down her offer. 

“Its registered in my name, no SIM card, no one can call you. I was thinking about what you said last night, about Finn, and I realised that maybe I am a little scared of him” She said, holding back what she was really thinking. 

I know the truth. I know all of it. Yes, Finn does scare me. And yes, I just want an excuse to talk to you. I don’t want to miss you, but I will. 

“You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to. I thought maybe I’d feel a little safer knowing I had you as a lifeline. No one else knows where I’m going, no one that could help me at least” She continued, looking back up at him, concern in her eyes. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it for now” He said, gesturing to the phone. He looked at it once again, pressing the little round button on the front of the screen, watching it light up in his palm. The image on the screen was of her, sitting on a beach somewhere, huge Australian cattle dog sitting between her legs. 

She looked beautiful. The sunset behind her was making her hair look alight, tinting it a golden shade of blonde. The dress she was wearing was gather around her thighs and flowing over the sand around her. The look of joy on her face was enormous as she looked down at the hug dog in front of her, arms reaching around to hold the pet in place. She had a sense of serenity about her, a sense of completeness. There was something there Bucky hadn’t seen before. 

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I forgot about the wallpaper. Feel free to change it to whatever you want. Ya know, like a picture of a truck or a motorbike or a woman washing a car. Or maybe some rum and raisin ice cream” She said, sarcastically, shooting him a wink. 

“Okay, I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for my flight. I’ll see you next week?” She asked, closing the gap between them and wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

Instinctively, Bucky pulled both hands out of his pocket, wrapping them around her waist as he relaxed into her touch. He realised almost immediately what he had done, feeling her soft sweater under his bare metal palm. 

He slowly pulled his hand away, moving it back towards his jacket pocket. She felt him start to pull away and went to step back, catching the slight glint of metal in the corner of her eye, disappearing somewhere in the shadows of his jacket. 

She knew what it was, but played it like it was nothing, like maybe it was her old phone catching the sunlight. She let it slide, keeping her eyes on him only. It wasn’t the right time. 

She wondered if he had any idea that she knew the truth, but she knew if he had, he wouldn’t still be standing there right now. He would be long gone, hiding somewhere far away, out of reach, catching the eye of another neighbour. 

“I’ll see you next week” He said, giving her a weak and anxious smile, unsure if she had seen his hand. 

As she turned and went to walk down the fire escape, he took a step closer to her, grabbing her by the wrist. He could feel her heartbeat pounding underneath his fingertips, racing faster by the second. 

He froze for a moment, just standing there, staring into her eyes. He was holding her as if she was a lifeline, the anchor keeping him tied to something solid, something to keep him afloat. 

He had spent so much time thinking about leaving, about running away and leaving her behind. He had never stopped to consider that maybe she’d be the one to leave and never come back. Maybe she’d be the one to disappear. 

If this was the last time he saw her, she needed to know even just a small fraction of the truth. She needed to know that he noticed her, that she meant something to him.

“Be safe Tara. I’ll miss you” He said, voice barely audible about the chirping of the morning birds, the sounds of the traffic down below them. 

“I’ll miss you too” She said, whispering it back to him, only to him. 

They stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime. Neither of them had the strength to pull away, both too afraid of what could happen. Tara felt like sand in that moment. She felt as if his fingertips were the only thing keeping her together. If he let go, shed simply slip through the cracks beneath them. 

Bucky looked between her eyes and her lips, the motion frantic. He could feel something swelling inside of him. There was this pressure building in his chest, a feeling he had only ever felt with her. But now it was almost unbearable. 

He knew what this was. He could feel his legs trying to push himself forward, towards her again, and he panicked. So instead of striding forward and meeting her lips, he let go. He let go of the words swimming around in his head. 

They were lies, a fantasy, he told himself. And she deserved better than a fantasy he was too scared to believe in. 

As he watched her walk down the fire escape, he realised something, something that could mean everything or nothing. It hit him like a freight train in the night. 

“How did she know I spoke German?”


	52. The Right Side of History

Questions swirled around in Bucky’s mind as he tried to find an answer. He raked through every memory, every word exchanged. Did she make an assumption that he knew the language? Had he mentioned it to her before and just forgotten about it? He was thinking through ever possibility except the one that made the most sense.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” He asked himself aloud, the words echoing throughout his almost empty apartment, seeping into the floorboards, filling the shadows, hiding in the corners and under the sparse furniture. They were cowardice words, too scared of the fight he could feel welling up inside him to stay in his head. 

He started pacing around the living room, flexing his hands into fists as he did it. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. It had become a reflex, he realised, to distract himself, and a distraction from the possibility that Tara knew everything, all the horrid things he had done, was a distraction he needed. 

He stopped in front of the kitchen counter, leaning out and grabbing the ledge to steady himself. He knew he needed to think of this logically, before it was too late for logic, before it was too late to get off the roof, to change his mind and put the gun away. 

He reached for his notebook on the far end of the counter, flipping it to the next empty page. He scrambled for the pen and began writing the frantic words in his head. 

Has she called the police? No  
Has she called the FBI? No  
Has she called SHIELD? No  
Has she called HYDRA? No  
Has she told anyone that I’m here? No  
Has she been afraid of me? Maybe  
Has she treated me like I’ve murdered countless people? Definitely not  
Has she treated me like a human? Yes  
Can I live without her? No   
Have I fallen in l- 

He stood back from the page, reading his words over and over again, crossing out the words that didn’t make sense to him yet. The things he wasn’t ready to ask himself. 

His mind trailed off, replaying over the time they’ve spent together, the days on the fire escape, the nights watching movies, the walks to the pier. 

There have been so many chances for her to do something. To call the police, to run away, to ignore his existence, to treat him like he really deserved. If she had asked, he would have left her alone for good. He would move mountains, move churches and trains, if she asked. 

But she didn’t. She didn’t run, she didn’t tell him to leave, she didn’t call someone to drag him away to the place still vivid in his nightmares. She treated him like he still mattered, like his life, or what was left of it, still meant something. 

If she knew the truth, he knew she was smart enough to do something about it. She would have done the right thing. She would have protected herself. He knew her enough by now to know she stood on the right side of history. 

He nodded to himself, closing the book in front of him. He pushed it away, wanting to push away the topic all together. He felt his heart start to relax, beating at a normal pace as he accepted the outcome. If she knew, he wouldn’t still be there. He could live with that for now. 

He looked at the clock in the kitchen, reading the time. It was eight-seventeen am. He walked into his bedroom, stripping out of his clothes and throwing them on the bed. He knew he couldn’t go back to sleep now. Not with the sheen of panic sweat that was clinging to his body. 

He climbed into the shower, feeling the ice cold-water wash over his burning skin. As the days charged towards the end of October, everything was starting to cool down, the water, the air, the sunlight, the distance between bodies. 

Well almost everything. There was something inside him getting warmer by the day, something trickling through him, warming up all the places he thought were long ago frozen. 

He quickly washed his body, scrubbing the sweat and grim from his face, finally waking himself up properly. His fingers trailed over the scars on his chest, the stab wounds, the bullet holes, the cuts, the scraps, all of them a different story. 

His fingers reached the scars on his shoulder and he turned off the water.

He dried himself off quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist and heading straight for his pile of clothes in the corner. The air in his apartment was cold, not having its chance to warm up yet with the rising sun. 

He was trying to find a hoodie to warm up his prickling skin when he heard a vibrate come from his bed. He ignored it for a second as he found the hoodie at the bottom of the pile, giving it a sniff and throwing it on anyway. It could last another day, he thought. 

He threw on a fresh pair of sweatpants and some socks, trying to bring some feeling back into his limbs. 

He heard the vibrate ring out again, loud and clear across the silent apartment. He walked over to his bed, finding his pants from this morning. He checked the pockets and found Tara’s phone, lit up with a notification. He swiped on it, the screen showing a message that warmed every part of his frozen body. 

“At the airport safely! Hope you aren’t missing me too much ”

As hesitant as he was to even have this phone in his apartment, he felt safer knowing she was still so close, still so within reach. It wasn’t the same as hearing her voice from across the way, smelling her paint lingering with the breeze, the sound of her music along with it. 

It wasn’t the same but it was still more than he deserved, he thought. 

Maybe she was right, maybe it would be okay for him to keep this. Maybe it would make him feel safer too. 

Maybe he could trust her.


	53. The End and The Beginning Of Everything

It was later that night that he heard the familiar sound buzz from the corner of his bedroom. He was avoiding the thing, that was for sure, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He didn’t want to either. He wanted to be like everyone else. He wanted to be normal. 

Earlier in the day, when she had first sent him that text, he had felt good. He felt hopeful. He felt like he could breathe a little easier knowing she was safe. At least in that moment. 

Then, all too suddenly, he realised he needed to reply. He slumped down onto his bed, feeling his still wet hair drip down his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. 

He held the phone in his trembling palm as his eyes darted over the screen. He tapped on the type bar, watching as the keyboard popped up, awaiting his relay. He went to press his fingers to the screen, but he froze, too aware of the fact he had no idea what to say. 

He sighed out of frustration and flopped back on the bed, resting the phone on his stomach and closing his eyes. He knew it shouldn’t be this hard. This should be casual, this shouldn’t mean anything more than what it was. But it didn’t feel like that. 

This felt like the end and the beginning of everything. The end of this protective bubble that he had trapped himself in, but the beginning of what he needed, what he wished for so deeply that he was too afraid to say it out loud, in fear of the wind stealing the words from his lips and running away with it. 

Running away with his sanity, with his freedom, with his trust, with his undeniable love for something he didn’t deserve, something he couldn’t touch. 

He reached for the phone again, opening it up to her message. He just needed to say something, anything. He needed to bite the bullet. 

“Let me know when you get to Sweden”

He hit the send button and practically threw the phone across the room, hearing a light thud as it hit the pile of clothes in the corner that he had been meaning to put away for weeks. He launched himself off the bed and paced into the living room, mind set of distracting himself as long as he could from the elephant hiding in the other room. 

He grabbed his notebook off the kitchen counter and the pen from his backpack before grabbing jacket and his gloves. He slipped on his boots and stepped out onto the fire escape. 

He stood there for a second, just looking over at her apartment. She hadn’t drawn the curtains, so he could still see inside. He could see the plants near the window, reaching towards the last drips of sunlight as the day grew later. He could see Tara’s favourite jumper thrown across the back of the couch, her favourite pj’s laying nearby. 

He looked at her favourite spot on the fire escape, the comfy cushion, the little table that held her tea, the one she painted herself. The one with permanent fingerprints on the side from where she picked it up while the paint was still wet. 

He wanted to jump across and sit there. He wanted to sit in his spot across from her and close his eyes as he listened to the jazz music filter from inside. He wanted to smell her shampoo in the breeze, the scent of apples and English breakfast tea. He wanted to hear her voice, listen the way she snorted a little when she laughed, when she really laughed with all of her being. 

He wanted to sit there and wait for her. He wished he could blink and see her sitting across from him. Maybe then the pain in his chest and the lump in his throat would fade away. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he had before he met her.

He wanted to sit there and wait for her but he didn’t. He turned on his heal and climbed the ladder to the roof, desperate for distance. 

He reached the top, and for a second he thought he heard her voice, her rousing laughter, coming from behind him. He whipped around and looked back towards her apartment, but he found nothing but empty windowsills and the snickering of the wind as it blew past him. 

\--

After a few hours on the roof, filling pages after pages of his notebook, recalling all the memories he could from the past few months, he slowly pulled himself away from the setting sun and back towards his apartment. 

Throwing the book down on the counter, he grabbed some leftovers from the fridge. He found that if he didn’t physically walk past the fridge and remind himself, he could go all day without food. It was the one part of training he hadn’t managed to completely get out of his system, but it was better than it had ever been before.

He threw himself down on the couch, placing his legs up on the coffee table. As he started eating his dinner of cold pizza, he heard the dreaded buzz of the phone coming from the other room. 

He tossed his head back and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will his legs to work. He took a deep breath and thought back to that morning, to when he found her on the fire escape. 

She looked so warm, so soft. Her hair was freshly washed, smelling sweet with curls floating down her shoulders and across her flushed cheeks. She looked so beautiful, so welcoming, so pure. The memory brought a smile to his lips, eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

He heard the buzzing again and jumped a little, standing from the couch and pacing over to the bedroom. He rummaged through the pile and found the phone, clicking on the home button, the screen lighting up a message he wasn’t expecting. 

“Made it to Sweden mostly unharmed. I’m going  
to head off to bed soon but I just   
wanted to say goodnight”

“I miss you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short lil chapter for now. I'm off from work for a week so ill hopefully update again soon xx


	54. The Stars and The Storm Clouds

Bucky slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, reading the words on the screen over and over again. He spoke out the letters, one by one, watching them float out into the air around him. He laid back with a heavy thud, looking up at the ceiling, gazing at the words swirling around like smoke. The letters, the sound of her voice, images of her mixed in between. 

‘I m i s s y o u’

He sat up, unlocking the phone once again and began typing out a reply. It crossed his mind then what she had said about landing ‘mostly unharmed’ and he froze, remembering who was on this trip with her, who was staying so close to her, close enough to smell her shampoo and the paint on her hands. 

He hurriedly finished his reply before hitting the send button, his mind racing, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Afraid of coming across as too protective, as too intense. 

“I hope Finn didn’t have anything to do with that partial harming?” 

He threw the phone back on the bed next to him, all too nervous for her reply. His legs began to shake a little, his arms moving with them as his elbows came to rest heavily on his knees. He kept his eyes on the floor, moving between each of his toes, the old floorboards underneath them, the swirls of the woodgrain, the hair on his ankle, the scar over his foot. 

He stood up quickly, suddenly needing to move, to get some feeling in his limbs again. He began pacing back and forth in front of his bed, hands clenching to fists at his sides. He tried to shake out his shoulders and loosen their intensity, but they wouldn’t budge. 

He knew he was most likely overreacting, but it felt like someone was trying to claw their way out of his chest, trying to breach the surface, someone desperate for air.

He heard the dull tone then, almost lost to the sound of panic in his ears. He turned around on his heels and practically tripped over himself, desperate to know she was alive, that she was safe. As he read her words, he slowly sunk down to the edge of the bed, clinging to every word on the screen.

“Nah, I tripped getting off the plane and cut up my knee a little.   
Barely in the country and already making an idiot of   
Myself”

“I wish you were there to see it”

“Now you know why I never let you jump   
between the fire escapes”

“Are you okay? Are you injured?”

“Hahah yeah that’s probably for the best”

“Oh, don’t worry I’m fine! Just a couple   
scratches, nothing to worry about”

He felt himself relax a little at her words, his shoulders losing their tension, his chest returning to its normal rhythm. He relaxed a little more in the mattress, letting it take his full weight. 

“Any issues with Finn so far?   
I don’t need to come rescue you already, do I?”

He watched the three little dots move and jump in waves as she typed. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. Whatever it meant, he focused on it and tried to distract himself from all the possible answers he could be about to receive. 

“Finn barely said a word to me all day so   
no need to book a plane ticket just yet”

“I’m about to fall asleep so I’ll   
talk to you tomorrow? 

Goodnight Buck”

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow.   
Goodnight Tara” 

He finally let go of the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, falling back on the bed. He felt a weight lift from his chest knowing she was okay, that she was happy, that she was safe. 

He looked up and watched the ceiling once again, mind drifting to thoughts of her. The way she would hold her tea between small, tentative fingers. The way her eyes would crinkle up a little as she smiled and crinkle up a lot when she laughed. The way her voice can carry across a room in the most delicate and intimate way. 

He watched the moonlight dance across the ceiling and saw her eyes, playful and vibrant, dancing along with them. The grey of the moon reminded him of their colour, how they can reflect the light, the stars and the storm clouds. 

The sound of the phone pinging once again made him jump a little. He reached for it beside him and pulled it up to his face. He was practically beaming with happiness as he read her message, the realisation of her words hitting him. 

“Fuck! You better not go through my photos!!!!   
I forgot to delete them off that phone”

“I will make no such promises.   
I need to remember you somehow, right?”

She replied with a photo. Bucky clicked on it faster than he was willing to admit, realising all too quickly how desperate he was to see her. It showed her cuddled up in her hotel bed, huge pillows all around her head and warm blankets pulled up to her nose. 

She held up her middle finger, flipping off the camera, stern look in her eyes. It made him laugh out loud, probably waking the neighbours downstairs. It was a laugh he hadn’t used in a long time. It felt strange almost, the cords in his voice moving in a way that felt unnatural, forgotten. It hurt in the best kind of way. 

He looked at the image for longer than he probably should have before typing out a reply. 

“Have a great sleep Tara”

He closed the app and searched for a while before finding the button titled ‘Photos’. He scrolled quickly to the top, scanning past thousands of photos and finding the first image, dated almost six years ago. 

It was Tara, sitting at a bar with a drink in her hand and a sash over her chest, the words ‘Happy 18th Birthday’ embellished with pink glitter. She was smiling so wide, eyes shining brighter than ever. She was wearing a black dress, her long hair in loose waves on her shoulders, over her arms, across her chest. 

Next to her sat an older girl Bucky didn’t know, though she looked just like Tara. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought they were twins. They had the same smile, the same cheekbones, the same nose. Her eyes were a lively shade of green, her teeth a little straighter, clothes much more colourful. They were the textbook definition of sisters. 

She looked so happy, so content. She looked whole, like every piece of her life, every piece of the puzzle, at least in that very moment, was exactly where they needed to be. Nothing tainted, nothing broken, nothing missing. Her mother, her father, her sister. Everything and everyone was still there and still breathing, close enough to grasp. 

The Tara that Bucky knew felt different now, like a clone almost. Her eyes still shone brightly, her smile was still wide and beaming, but now, he could feel the missing pieces. He could see the gaps in her soul where her family once took space. He could sense the cracks left open for her past friends, her past lovers, the people she lost long ago.

All this time he thought he knew her. He thought he knew the girl who lived across the way, the one that’s afraid of the dark, who bakes when she’s stressed and paints when she’s angry. The girl who reads in the sun. The girl who always smells of apples and the sea. 

He felt tears begin to swell with the thought that maybe the girl smiling back at him on this screen was lost forever. That maybe he never deserved to meet her anyway. 

He closed the app, once again returning to her message. He typed out a reply and pressed send before he had a chance to second-guess. 

If this is all he ever has, if this is the only Tara he ever gets to meet, then that’s enough. 

Any version of her was enough. 

“I miss you too”


	55. Whiskey

Tara awoke the next morning to the sound of rain hitting the window. The loud thuds were echoing across the hotel room, bouncing off the mirror by the door, the desk in the corner, the bathroom tiles. 

For a moment, she forgot where she was. The sensations, the smells of the sheets, all of it was unfamiliar. Tara felt the panic start rising in her throat, her chest feeling tight, the air around her getting thinner. 

She quickly sat up in bed, fumbling for the lamp beside her. She couldn’t find the switch in the dark room, thick blinds blocking out almost all of the light. She swore loudly before finally reaching for her phone and switching on the torch. 

After a few manic scans of the room, she realised where she was. She let out a loud sigh of relief and flopped back against the pillows, suddenly aware of the sweat on the back of her neck. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, laughing to herself a little. 

She pulled her phone back up into view and squinted at the brightness as she scanned the screen, seeing the late message from Bucky. 

‘I miss you too’

She felt her heart jump, almost like the words reached out and thumped her in the chest. She felt so awake now. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way. That a simple goodnight message from a friend was nothing to dwell on, nothing to sweat over. But this wasn’t a simple goodnight text from a friend, was it? 

She pulled herself up and against the headboard, shoving a pillow behind her head to get more comfortable. She stared at the screen for a while, not sure where to start. She knew if she thought about this for too long, she’d fall down a rabbit hole she wasn’t sure shed come back out of. 

She closed her eyes and took one solid, deep breath before typing out the most innocent reply she could muster. 

“Good morning Buck” 

She panicked and threw the phone down the bed before it landed on the floor. She wiped her face roughly with her hands as she felt the hot whips of anxiety lashing at her throat. She felt sweat forming and threw off the blanket, suddenly too hot for comfort. 

She ripped open the curtains and watched the room flood with light. It bounced everywhere, filling every dark, hidden corner with a wash of white. In the harsh light of morning, everything felt a little more exposed. Every emotion was new again, refreshing with the rising sun. 

She stripped out of her clothes and headed for the bathroom, desperate to wash away the feeling in her stomach. The feeling that this could all end very badly if she let it. 

With her head against the tile wall, icy cold water running over her back, Tara replayed her mother’s voice over and over in her head. The memory of her voice was getting more and more distant but the words remain clear. 

“Just breathe Tara. Everything will feel better in the morning” 

\--

She headed downstairs meet up with Finn in the lobby of the hotel around eight-thirty am. She sat herself down near the exit of the hotel, finding a seat on the quieter side of the room. 

The foyer was packed full of people in business suits, holding briefcases that Tara was sure were mostly likely empty. The doors of what must have been conference rooms were wide open and she watched as the suits filed in like hordes of flies, styrofoam coffee cups in hand. 

She looked down at her phone to check the time and saw the notification from Bucky. As she went to open the message, she heard Finn clear his throat, trying to get her attention. She locked her phone and looked up at him, eyes widening a little. 

He looked, for lack of a kinder word, rough. The bags under his eyes were noticeable and dark, like he hadn’t slept at all. His shirt was wrinkled and half tucked in to his jeans. The stubble on his face was noticeable, especially since he was always clean shaven and put together. 

“Godmorgon” Tara said in Swedish, trying to come across as cheerful and excited. He gave her a weak nod in reply and pointed towards the front door, signaling he was ready to leave. 

They walked out the front door and found the company car waiting for them just down the street from the hotel. They climbed into the back seat together, keeping their distance. 

Tara watched the city pass outside, the people rushing about their mornings, filling cafes and marching into office buildings. As they pulled up at a red light, she remembered the message waiting for her from Bucky.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and unlocked it, opening his message. She didn’t notice Finn turn to look at her. She didn’t notice the look on his face when he saw the name on the top of the screen or the clenching on his fists in his jacket pocket. 

“Good morning Tara. How did you sleep?” 

“Not great, not terrible. How about you?”

“Not great, not terrible. How’s   
your first day in Stockholm treating you?”

It felt wrong of her to ask him that question, knowing full well the kind of nightmares he must have on a nightly basis. She wished she could help. She wished she could be there to hold h-

“Who are you talking to?” Asked Finn out of the blue. She instinctively locked her phone screen and turned to him. She watched as he took a sip of his coffee, giving her a raised eyebrow. 

“Just my sister” She replied, lying through her teeth. She tucked her phone back in her pocket without replying to Bucky. She didn’t need Finn berating her so soon into the trip. 

“How is that sister of yours Tara?” He asked, keeping his attention of the passing traffic beside him. She could sense where he was going with this and she didn’t like it. He knew she was lying. She needed to play this carefully. 

“She’s fine” Tara said cheerfully, smile wide, trying to throw Finn off a little. He turned to look at her now, keeping the coffee cup he was sipping from close to his lips. 

“That’s great” He said sarcastically, tone deadpan and eyes suspicious. He could see right through her and she knew it. This side of Finn scared her more than she cared to admit. She knew now that this is the Finn that Bucky was so worried about. 

She smiled at him and turned her attention back to the city moving outside the suddenly too small backseat. She watched the cars, the people on bikes, the kids being taken to school and the dogs on their morning walks. 

She tried to focus on anything but the smell of whiskey lingering from Finn and the clenched fists she could see in his pocket.


	56. The Things He Still Wanted To Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning - mention of a past suicide attempt and alcohol consumption
> 
> the latter part of this chapter is something I'm actually really proud of so please be kind

Bucky turned the book over in his hands a few times, feeling the weight of it, of the paper, the ink, the teardrops and the fingerprints. The folded corners, the scribbled notes, the underlined words. All of it held weight, held meaning. 

He flicked through the pages at random, reading a little here and there, skipping the long poems all together, too scared to hover on a page for too long. This book had been staring at him from the kitchen table for weeks, months almost. Tara had insisted he borrow it one night at dinner after she caught him eying it off curiously. 

The title had caught his attention, the words so sad yet hopeful at the same time. It was the oldest, most worn of her collection. It stood out, practically screaming at him from across the room. He took it graciously, said he’d return it soon. She told him to take all the time he needed, no rush, she had read it enough for a lifetime. 

He had almost picked it up many times before this, but somehow it always felt like he was intruding on something private, something Tara didn’t want him to know yet. A book of poetry between friends felt romantic in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. 

Still, ill-feeling aside, he had brought it with him to the roof, intent of reading at least some of it before Tara came home. She had been gone for five days now and this is as far as he had gotten. She deserved her book back, he had taken it long enough now. 

He finished reading a poem about atom bombs when he turned the page, finding a short poem with notes scribbled all around. Bucky almost closed the book immediately, feeling too intrusive, but he stopped himself. Once he saw the words on the page, the smudged ink, the water stains, he couldn’t look away. 

“oh yes  
there are worse things than  
being alone  
but it often takes decades  
to realize this  
and most often  
when you do  
it's too late  
and there's nothing worse  
than  
too late”

Tara’s notes were scattered all around, in her distinct half-cursive handwriting. 

“I’m sorry for all the anger Mum. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when I had the chance to be. I hope you know I forgave you in the end, even if it wasn’t when it mattered. I hope you forgave me too” 

Bucky read the words over again a few more times, feeling the vice in his chest getting tighter with each word.  
He thought he knew the whole story, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe there was more she wasn’t willing to share yet. More to it that she kept locked away, even from herself. 

He wasn’t angry or upset. He knew she told him more than he deserved. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness in his throat. The guilty feeling of being too late to save her the pain of losing her mother. The pain of watching her family collapse at her fingertips. It sat in his stomach long after he turned the page. 

\--

As the sun started to set over the water, Bucky pulled himself up from the ground and stood at the edge of the roof, watching the people below. They mulled about in the streets, saying goodbye to friends, nodding at strangers. They marched through front doors and alleyways, all trying to find warmth before the sun hid itself away once again. 

He said one final goodbye to the sun and the ocean and the breeze and headed back down the fire escape. He gave her landing once last glance before quickly disappearing into his apartment. 

He closed the window, locking it behind him. He looked back over to her apartment, almost on compulsion, praying to see her sitting there on the couch, tea in hand, happy and soft and safe. 

He forced himself away from the window, pulling the curtains closed. He walked into the kitchen, throwing his notebook down on its usual place on the countertop. He carefully placed Tara’s book on top of the fridge for safe-keeping. 

He walked back into the bedroom and pulled at the clothes of the floor, trying to find the hoodie he left there earlier. It was tangled with the sheets that had gathered at the end of the bed, hanging lifeless over the edge, onto the floor. It brought back a memory that made Bucky shiver. 

He threw on the hoodie and sat down on the edge of his bed, quickly pulling the sheets back up and roughly into place. He reached into the pocket of the hoodie and pulled out the phone. He flipped it over in his hands for a while, a little scared of what he might see when he unlocked the screen. 

He knew this was stupid, that the whole point of having it was to protect her, to be there when she needed him. He couldn’t quite do that while leaving the phone under a pile of clothes and linen and bodies wrapped in sheets. Bodies that had long since gone cold in the breeze. People he felt go lifeless in his hands, under his fists. 

He roughly wiped his face, rubbing his eyes till they stung, till he saw little white spots dance across the void of blackness, moving like words in the wind, like sea foam on a wave. 

He unlocked the phone, seeing multiple notifications pop up. He clicked on it, waiting on baited breathe and racing heart as he read her messages. 

“Just got back to the hotel. What an absolute  
shit show of a day that was”

“I’m so glad that this fucking  
conference is over”

“Remind me to never agree to  
one of these things again”

“I need the strongest drink this hotel  
bar will legally make for me”

“How’s work going? How are you going?”

“Buckkyyyy!!!”

“I’m on drink number four and I miss youuuuuu”

“me and Finn and some friends from the  
conference are going out to some nightclub  
downtown!!!!!”

“I’ll try and let you know when  
I get home later but my phone will  
probably die sooooon ”

The last message was a photo of Tara, holding up a huge glass of what looked like whisky. Or maybe its rum? Bucky couldn’t tell exactly. It didn’t matter though, he was still worried. 

The idea of Tara going out to some dirty nightclub somewhere in a city she didn’t kno, was enough to put his stomach in knots, but the knowledge that Finn was there too, was enough to push him into a full-blown panic. 

He shot up from the bed and marched back and forth across the apartment, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He stopped in front of the living room window, hands clenching the window frame on either side. He looked over to her apartment, feeling his heart sink once again upon seeing it empty. He closed his eyes. 

It had been a long, long time since Bucky had tasted alcohol. If someone asked him the last time he was drunk, he would lie and say it was before the war. A going away party somewhere in Brooklyn, some bar filled with men in uniform. 

He would tell them about the girls and the cheap spirits, the music so loud it could almost block out the screaming in his head, the fear of what laid ahead for him on the other side of the world, on battlefields already filled with blood.

If he was being truthful, he would say it was almost two years ago now. His memories of that night were hazy at best, but he recalls a bottle or two of something strong, something that tasted like the whiskey his dad loved when he was alive. He remembers it wasn’t long after he broke free from his handlers, not long after Washington, after Steve. 

The memories are clear after that. There was icy wind, rain so heavy he thought it was bullets, shooting straight through him like hail. He was so scarred, so haunted by the memories of the things he had done, the things he still wanted to do, the things and the people and the dreams that never stood a chance. 

He remembers standing on the roof, stepping closer and closer to the edge. He looked down at his shaking hands and the gun in his fingertips. He looked up, staring at the moon through the harshness of the sheeting rain and wondered if anyone else, anyone that still cared, was looking at it too. 

He lifted the gun to his head, shivering a little at the cold metal against his temple. He took three deep breaths, closed his eyes and felt the bottle drop from his fingertips, smashing on the ground six stories below. 

He climbed back downstairs and threw up. He woke up with a splitting headache and an unshakeable feeling of regret. Regret for the things he wished he had done, the things he still wanted to do. He never went back on that roof, or any roof, until he met Tara. 

Bucky walked away from the window and back to the bedroom. He sunk to the floor at the foot of his bed, pulling the sheets down with him. 

He held her phone in his hands and waited.


	57. Somewhere in The Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a short update for now! sorry everyone!! but more importantly, what's everyones thoughts on tfatws??
> 
> trigger warning!!!! - non-consensual drugs/drugging (I know theres a better word for that but its escaping me)

It was around ten-thrity pm when they arrived at some nightclub just outside the main city centre. She stumbled out of the cab first, watching Finn, Elin, Lars and Maja tumble out behind her. They had all been drinking in the hotel bar well before Tara got there, so she was definitely the most sober of the group. 

She looked around the small square, seeing the tall limestone terraces lining the streets, windows shining and full of life. Locals looked down from their warmly lit windows, smoking, reading their magazines and their novels. The smell of home-cooked meals filled the air around her and she felt sick. 

Lars led the group across the square to a nightclub on the far side, adamant that this was the place to be if you wanted to see the most of Swedish nightlife. The music was loud, even from the street and the windows were glowing red, moving and changing with the beat. 

Tara was surprised she agreed to go to a nightclub so easily. Usually, this wasn’t her kind of thing, rarely going out to clubs at all since turning eighteen all those years ago. This was all completely out of her comfort zone. Three rum and cokes tend to do that, she told herself. 

They made their way inside and down the stairs, leading to an open dancefloor, covered in people. Along the sides of the room were booths, some empty, some filled with one time lovers making the most of their time together. It made Tara’s heart break a little. 

The girls found a booth in the back and got comfortable while the boys bought everyone a round. Finn passed Tara her drink with a wide smile and she tried to take that as an olive branch, a sign that maybe their friendship could be normal again. Maybe she didn’t need to be so scared of him. Maybe he was one of the good guys. 

Tara spent most of the next few hours there in the booth, chatting with Elin and Maja mostly. She asked about their work with the company, the parts they loved, the parts they hated. She asked about school, about where they grew up, their family and their friends. It turned out they were best friends since kindergarten, following each other ever since. 

Lars asked her to dance not long after that. They danced together for a few songs with Elin and Maja joining them after a while. Lars was fun, energetic, not afraid of anything. He reminded her of the men back home in Australia. Always so confident, so self-assured. He was tall, with thick dark hair that he wore up in a small bun. He was handsome in the usual way that guys in nightclubs are handsome. 

She looked back over towards the booth and caught Finns eyes. He was staring straight at her with a look she hadn’t seen for a while. Not since that day in the elevator. It was jealously. It made Tara laugh at the obviousness of it all. From the way, Lars was eyeing off the tall blonde guy across the dancefloor, she could tell he wasn’t interested in her, or women in general. 

She looked back towards Finn, ready to give him the shit eating grin and bravado that only alcohol could give her, but he was gone, lost in the sea of bodies. 

Tara apologised to the others and took off for the bathroom. She stumbled her way through the hallways and private rooms, her legs feeling weaker and weaker the further she walked. Finally finding a quiet bathroom in the back of the club, she sat down and held her head in her hands for a while.

She stayed like that for a while, feeling like the sea was shifting around in her head, a storm brewing somewhere in the distance. She sat up straight and focused on the poster on the stall door in front of her, trying to read the words as steadily as she could.

“Sturecompahniet, bäst i hela sverige” The poster read, in bright bold font. Tara wasn’t sure if it was meant to be in Swedish or in English. She really was a lot more drunk than she thought she was, then she really should be. She didn’t have enough drinks to feel like this, right?

She finished up and left the stall, practically falling into the sink as she washed her hands. She braced her hands against the wall and looked at herself in the mirror. As her eyes came into focus, she saw a confused woman looking back, someone who didn’t know exactly where she was or how she got there. A woman who felt too drunk for only four rum and cokes. 

She felt a pang of something start in her stomach, spreading across her arms and legs and clinging to her chest. A feeling of panic, of fear, of realisation. She remembered the drinks Finn brought for her earlier in the night. 

The ones that didn’t taste right at all, but she drank them anyway. 

She was frantically searching for her phone as the bathroom door swung open. 

\--

It was well past one am now, but Bucky still sat at the foot of his bed, mind wide awake. He ran through the plan in his head, over and over. Where his go-bag was hidden, where the spare knives and guns and cash was stored behind the walls, how he’d get to Sweden, how long it should take him. 

It was stupid, the whole idea of going to find her was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop the overwhelming feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong. That he needed to help her. 

The plan just kept churning and churning, the outcome still the same. He knew that if something happened to her tonight, if she was in trouble somewhere, he’d be too late. 

And there’s nothing worse than too late.


	58. Lost in The Surf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning - drugging and the aftermath, vomiting
> 
> pretty boring update - I'm sorry :( 
> 
> my state has gone back into a small lockdown so hopefully ill be able to keep writing over the next week and get another chapter up soon xx

A security guard swung the bathroom door wide open, crashing against the tiled wall, sound echoing throughout the empty room. She looked at him openmouthed and terrified, too scared to move or speak or blink. Her vision was blurring so much now she really thought it was Finn.

The guard began speaking sternly in Swedish, words she couldn’t quite piece together. He noticed her confusion and changed to English. 

“I’m sorry Miss but you can’t be back here. This is a private bathroom. You’ll have to leave” The man said, slower this time, calmer for some reason. Maybe he could see how scared she felt, how alone she was. 

He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and smooth, lightly tanned skin. He was muscular and wide and stank of cigarettes. He reminded her of a man she once knew, long ago. It felt like another lifetime ago, like a different version of herself knew that person, and now this version of herself remembered him too. It was too much.

She pushed past the security guard and into the hallway, stumbling as she made her way back to the main foyer of the club. It felt like she couldn’t breathe, the walls getting closer and closer and closer. 

She turned and looked back towards the dancefloor, hoping to find the eyes of Elin or Maja or even Lars, someone to help her, someone she felt comfortable with. Instead, she found Finn, leaning against the bar with a glass in his hand. He raised it up and nodded, staring at her over the rim as he took a sip. 

There was something in his eyes, something threatening, something sinister. He knew why she felt like the world was moving off its axis, why she couldn’t feel the feet underneath her, why her skin didn’t feel like her own. He knew because that’s exactly what he wanted.

She felt bile rise in her throat and she knew she needed to get out of there. She turned and quickly made her way up the stairs, desperate to get lost in the crowds as more and more people filled into the club, blocking Finn’s view of her. 

She made it too the street and felt the overwhelming rush of fresh air hitting her skin, waking her up a little to the world around her. She turned and headed from the next street just down the block, relived to see it lined with taxi cabs. 

She practically threw herself into the first one she could reach, fumbling in her handbag for the business card that she knew was sitting at the bottom. It featured the name and address of her hotel and she handed it to the driver, who nodded pulled away from the curb. 

It was a trick she learnt from her sister years ago after her backpacking trip through South-East Asia. She told her of all the nights stumbling through city streets with her friends, squeezing into taxi’s and onto scooters, shoving handwritten business cards into drivers faces. 

She leant back in her seat, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as they pulled away from the club. Her head was spinning, her limbs beginning to feel like concrete. It was like she was stuck in the middle of the ocean, storm waves getting higher and higher around her. She was alone in that storm now. Alone, but safe. 

She looked at the front of the club as they drove past, seeing the figure of someone familiar leaning against the brick wall, cigarette lighting up his face in a sickly orange glow. 

\--

She walked into the hotel lobby with a sense of urgency, striding straight towards the front desk. The receptionist behind the counter was a young girl Tara recognised from the day she checked in and Tara was thankful for the smallest comfort a familiar face brought her. 

“Hi. I’m sorry to both-bother you but I’m staying upstairs – here’s my room key. I’m not feeling very safe right now and I was wondering if there was someone who could esco- someone to take me upstairs to my room?” She asked, fumbling on her words, head still swimming. 

“Yes of course miss. I’ll take you to your room” The girl made her way from behind the desk, motioning for another co-worker nearby to replace her spot. Tara released her grip from the countertop and followed the woman to the elevators.

They stepped inside and Tara leant back against the wall, trying to steady herself and the racing in her heart. She felt like she was about to pass out, black spots forming in the corner of her vision.

She forced her eyes back open and looked over to the receptionist who was facing the doors and holding her hands behind her back, keycard clutched in her palm. 

“I’m really sorry that I pulled you away from your job for this” Tara said, words slurred, voice low and apologetic. 

“No need to apologise miss. It’s all a part of the job” She replied, giving Tara a warm smile over her shoulder. 

The doors opened and she headed for her room down the hall with Tara trailing behind closely, eyes constantly glancing behind them. She opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Tara. She placed the room key on the bench next to the door before turning back to Tara.

“Is there anything else I can do for you miss?” She asked kindly, concern laced in her voice. 

“No, thank you. I’ll be okay now” Tara whispered, feeling the tightness in her throat. 

They shared a moment of silence, a moment so short that if she wasn’t so hyperaware, she wouldn’t have even noticed it. The clerk looked at her with that dreaded sense of understanding that all women share. The all-knowing intelligence of the cruel world around them and the violent people in it. 

They shared a small nod, a nod of acceptance that she was safe, at least for now. That this was appreciated more than words could say. 

“Goodnight” She said quietly, giving Tara a small smile and walked back towards the elevators. 

“Thank you” Tara whispered, words floating off softly down the hallway. She closed the door quickly, flicking on every lock possible and turning on every light switch. 

She stumbled over to the desk over in the corner and grabbed the chair, dragging it back to the door and shoving it under the lock. She tried to stand up again but her knees gave out underneath her, sending her down onto the carpet with a sharp thud. 

She crawled back over to the bench that held her suitcase and pulled that down too, clothes spilling over the floor in the process. She threw it on top of the chair, naively hoping the weight of it would keep the locks from breaking, from the outside world getting in. 

The whole room was spinning now, the black spots returning to her eyes and she watched for a moment as they danced across the room. It was almost beautiful. The movement, the curves, the tension. It reminded Tara of the ocean. The ocean she grew up in, the sand and the sun and overwhelming feeling of heat. She knew she needed to throw up now, or it would be too late. 

She inched her way to the bathroom on her hands and knees and leant over the toilet, watching the night spill out of her and wash away. She slowly stripped out of her clothes, throwing them across the bathroom as far as she could. 

She sat on the cold tiles, legs sprayed out in front of her, and let the cold-water rush over her body. She laid her head back and opened her mouth, drinking in as much water as she could till she couldn’t taste it anymore, the alcohol, the vomit, the disgust. 

The icy water woke up her skin and her flesh and her bones. It reminded her of this one morning when she was thirteen and the mid-winter surf had pulled her under, the waves pushing her down, lifting her up, making her feel more alive than she ever thought possible. 

She remembered coming up for air and sensing that feeling pass and knowing that it would never come back again. She thought she would never feel that same sense of thrill, of exhilaration, of weightlessness, of passion, of life, again. 

But it did come back, and has every day since she met Bucky. He brought alive things in her she thought she had long since cut out, things she didn’t believe she deserved anymore. Pieces of her she believed were dead. 

She pulled herself off the shower floor, finally starting to feel a little more solid on her own feet. She dried herself off as much as she could and slowly walked towards her phone sitting by the door, clinging to the wall with every step. She grabbed it in her weak hand and turned back towards the door, checking the locks one last time. 

Once she finally made it into the bed, she opened the notes app on her phone and started typing out a message to herself. The keyboard was blurry and the words all morphed together but she kept going, desperate to get it all down before she passed out. She wasn’t going to let herself forget about this, even if that’s all she wanted right now. She fumbled through the words till her fingers started to cramp and her arms got too heavy to hold up any longer. 

She fell asleep with the lights on, her phone in her hand and her head swimming, lost in the surf.

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! I made a Spotify playlist of all the songs I've used in this pic so far so feel free to check it out - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JaS96tw53m9TXLmucP9Z7?si=9A8uWAJZSKe6S4qEtqRsvQ


End file.
